


Howl

by a_dale



Category: Captain America (Movies), Teen Wolf (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 30 word prompt, Bucky and Natasha are Claudia's parents, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Natasha Romanov, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles is their grandson, linear timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-02 05:15:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 29,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16780321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_dale/pseuds/a_dale
Summary: SHIELD discovers some truths from the Red Room; Natasha and Bucky had broken their programming once together; they'd escaped. However the truth went beyond that. Not only had they escaped - they'd had a child.





	1. Evidence

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [But beneath my feet I felt the sting of the earth remembering](https://archiveofourown.org/works/771324) by [Slythhearted](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slythhearted/pseuds/Slythhearted). 



> This is my first time doing a word prompt fic like this so some of the chapters are a lot shorter than I usually write, but hopefully y'all enjoy this little experiment of mine. 
> 
> I really like the fic that inspired this one so I def recommend reading it at some point as well!

Out of the corner of his eyes, Steve saw Natasha go suddenly still. In of itself, this wasn't unusual, but the tension that now radiated from her, was.

“Everything alright?” his hands were blackened with charcoal from where he sat sketching in the window and so he reached for a cloth to wipe his hands clean, frown marring his brow when Natasha remained silent, eyes fixed on her computer screen.

“Where's James?” she asked when she finally spoke, and Steve frowned, glancing at the ring on his finger out of habit, wondering if his husband had managed to get himself in trouble again.

“Shooting range with Clint.” Natasha was on her feet in an instant, discarding the computer and heading for the elevator. Steve followed immediately, pausing when he caught sight of the computer screen. It was an email from Coulson and it only took a moment of his eyes flicking over the dates presented on the birth certificate, adoption records, and death certificate for Steve to figure out just what all this evidence could mean. His eyes widened in surprise before he was off, knowing Bucky would need him when he heard the news. His heart clenched with the pain he knew his partner was about to feel, but he knew better than to think Bucky wouldn't want to know. He arrived on the range moments after Natasha did, but it was just in time to watch the hope in Bucky's eyes shatter from Natasha's next words;

“She's dead.”

Though he knew Bucky looked steady on his feet, Clint's appearance right next to him, arm swinging casually around his shoulders as he looked between the two ex-soviet assassins gave away the fact that Bucky wasn't as steady as he looked.

“How?”

“She was sick.” Steve moved closer so he could stand beside his partner, and Bucky shamelessly tucked himself into Steve's side, face pressed to his neck. “There is something else you should know.” Natasha continued, and Steve felt Bucky shift attentively though he didn't pull away. “She left behind a husband. And a son.” that had Bucky looking up.

“How old is he?” Steve asked, knowing Bucky would want to know, but the idea of having lost a child he hadn't even known until she was dead had to be difficult.

“17.”

“Where does he live?”

“With his father in a small town in California. Beacon Hills. He's in his senior year of high school.”

“What's his name?” Bucky finally asked, and Natasha nearly smiled.

“Mieczysław Stilinski, but he goes by Stiles.”

“I want to see him.” Bucky responded after a moment of silence, and now Natasha did smile.

“Good. Plane leaves at 0600 hours. We're going undercover Mr. James B. Grant.” The burst of laughter was unexpected but the grin didn't disappear. He just turned the expression on Steve who just shook his head.

“I guess it would be too easy to introduce yourselves as long lost cousins.” Bucky rolled his eyes, excitement over creating a mission around his grandson clearly overshadowing the sadness of the daughter he had never met - would never be able to properly grieve.

“What's the fun in that?” Steve just shook his head, exasperated. Clint had disappeared after Natasha and so Steve took Bucky's hands, pulling him towards the door.

“Come on, let’s bug some supplies out of Tony.”

>>>

“So what do we know about him?” Natasha asked, sliding into the dining room chair across from where Bucky sat in the house they’d rented in Beacon Hills, pulling over one of the reports he'd been reading.

“His friend group is small but closely knit. They never go anywhere without at least one other person.” the words had Natasha looking up.

“Are they afraid of something?” Bucky shifted a shoulder, not quite a shrug.

“I can't tell. But they are hyper aware. When they're together the others always keep Stiles and the red head – Lydia Martin – in the middle.”

“Why them?”

“Vulnerability?” that earned him a soft smile obviously having told her of his own nerves.

“Ready to teach history, Mr. Grant?” she asked, and he rolled his eyes.

“It’ll be just like home.” and that earned him a flash of a smile. She knew he was making fun of Stark and Barton. She reached over, squeezing his hand. “Call Steve. Clint texted, apparently he's practically climbing the walls without news.” that had Bucky grinning. Steve was such a mother hen.


	2. I'm Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to add here that all mistakes are my own and I obviously do not own the OG works :)

Stiles was pretty proud of how far the pack had come. They were still a bit rough around the edges but hey they were still teenagers (for the most part), and they'd figured themselves out pretty well so far. And Stiles had fought hard for those changes. Fought hard to bring everyone together – to make Derek see he needed more than violence to have a pack – to show Scott that sometimes you needed violence to keep a pack.

When Scott had wanted to let Deucalion go free the year before Stiles had put his foot down. Either Scott agreed to kill him or Stiles would get it done behind his back and on his own because he'd had enough. Scott had balked but Stiles had just reminded him of Gerrard – how the older man had beaten him up and Scott had done nothing because it was Allison's grandfather. Derek had been quick to back Stiles up on that one because he was still smarting from how Scott had forced him to bite Gerrard, still hurting from the near loss of Erica and Boyd. Stiles had saved them too – he'd found the betas before they could run away, Still battered form Gerrard, and brought them home, sat his dad down and with their help had explained the supernatural. Then he'd collected the Hales, dragged Derek and Peter over, and had in no uncertain terms told them to smarten up. The tears had been burning in his eyes, pain burning in his muscles, but he'd stood firm. They needed to work together. They would all end up dead otherwise and God damn it he didn't want to die yet. He'd watched something soften in Derek then and the alpha had reached out, for once deceptively soft, and looped a hand around the back of Stiles' neck.

“I’m here.” Immediately Stiles felt his pain lifting and he'd let out a broken sob, finally cracking, but Erica and Boyd had moved in, cuddling in, even Peter, and in that moment Stiles knew they could make it work. They next day he'd woken up in his bed, the wolves still around him and his dad standing at the end of the bed. They'd looked at each other and then his father had sighed, nodding, and left the room. Yeah, they could definitely do this. When he'd finally dragged himself out of bed and through the shower, the others were awake, and the comfort they'd all drawn from each other the night before hadn't completely carried through but Stiles hadn't hesitated to scold them on it – especially Derek and Peter – they were a pack dammit and needed to act like it. Then he'd informed them he was going to call Scott and where the hell was Isaac? At the demand the blond in question had appeared in the doorway, having arrived after Stiles had fallen asleep and gotten up before Stiles' had woken up. He looked uncomfortable and so Stiles had rolled his eyes and huffed out a breath before waving the blonde over, wrapping him in a hug until the blonde relaxed and hugged him back, relaxing into the embrace. When he'd finally moved away and settled with Erica and Boyd Stiles resumed that Scott needed to be called. When the others had hesitated Stiles had promised that he would deal with Scott McCall himself.

It had taken only removing his shirt in front of Scott, showing him the damage and pointing out in no uncertain terms that Scott should have noticed and Stiles was angry that he'd been too busy betraying them for Allison to pay any attention. That had shut Scott up quickly and ever since then Stiles was proud to say that Scott had paid far more attention to all of them – to his pack. So when the alpha pack had come, bringing with them a captive, they were quick to respond and quick to save her, finding out there was actually another live Hale, Cora. That she'd been been kept locked up from the moon was a sore point and immediately put them against the invaders. Who did they think they were? Threatening them like this? Treating another werewolf so callously? And so they'd shut it down, worked hard together, Lydia and Allison and even Chris with them now – and taken the alpha's down before they had the chance to return the favour. But the Darach – the Darach was more complicated. Stiles could still feel his panic from when his dad had gone missing – could still feel the press of Isaac's lips against his own as the other boy tried to calm him. Needless to say, it had worked. Ever since then, he and Isaac had been sort of circling each other – but neither sure what to do with it.

Scott hadn't let hesitation stop him with the Darach either. He'd let Stiles and Peter go after her – not been surprised when Derek had joined them because once again someone had tried to use him against his pack. When Scott started being terrified of shifting because of the nightmares that plagued him after the sacrifice, he went to Peter, talking through the damage death does to the wolf. Allison learned to hear the living instead of the dead with Lydia's help – and when Stiles started losing time – it wasn't lost. Someone could account for it because they all made sure that nobody was ever alone. So when Stiles started nightmaring that there was someone else in his head trying to trap him, they all believed him. When he tried to lock himself in Eichen house, Peter fought against it – and viciously. He'd heard rumours about what happened behind those walls – and so the pack kept Stiles out – kept Stiles home with them. When the Oni attacked, they were all together, and they saw the switch between Stiles and _other_. When the Nogitsune introduced itself to them, they made a deal. They all understood what it meant to be trapped – to be punished for their nature – and so when the Nogitsune asked for the one who'd trapped it, the one who'd given it to the Nemeton to feed on after summoning and then punishing it for it's very nature, they gave it the kitsune. There had to be a balance, they recognized that. In return, the Nogitsune had separated itself from Stiles – but it didn't leave like it promised. They didn't give it a second chance.


	3. Funeral

“There have been a lot of funerals here these past few years.” Natasha murmured, even as she and Bucky watched yet another coffin get lowered into the ground from far enough away not to be caught. They could see Stiles and his friends standing all together, watching the ceremony solemnly, but there was something about the way they looked - almost like they weren’t there to pay their respects but that they were there to make sure nothing crawled back out. It sent a strange feeling through Natasha, watching these youth who were barely even out of high school, watching the coffin like it could at any moment burst open. She eyed the ones closest to Stiles, able to recognize them easily. On his left was Isaac Lahey, who seemed to spend the most time with Stiles, all but living at the house with him and the Sheriff. He was all but pressed against Stiles, shoulder to wrists, but Stiles didn’t seem bothered by the contact, in fact, he seemed to lean into it. On Stiles’ right was Derek Hale, and it was him and his uncle that had most of Natasha’s attention.

“What do you have on Hale?” Natasha asked, and caught the telltale sound of Bucky’s readiness to fight, his arm recalibrating under his jacket. 

“Why? He a problem?”

“You’ve seen how they hang around him, all defer to him.” and even as they watched Derek murmur something to one of the others in the group, Erica Reyes, she tilted her head in answer, a show of deference.

“Even Stiles?” and that had Natasha smirking.

“No. But from what I’ve seen of him, that’s not surprising. Whatever role he has in this group, it’s pretty high up.”

“Are you thinking some form of gang?” Bucky murmured back, eyes tracking every movement. That would fit some of the behaviour but didn’t sit quite right.

“I’m not sure, but something’s going on. All this death? It always connect back to Hale somehow. And the Argents.” In unison, their gazes turned to Allison Argent, who stood in front of her father, Chris Argent, and next to both Scott McCall, and Lydia Martin. Even looking at her and her father, they knew they were trained to fight.

“Does she seem like a threat to him?” Bucky asked, but Natasha shook her head.

“No. They’re close. Familial. The whole group of them.” Bucky shook his head, frown in place.

“Something’s going on here, Nat. Something bigger than we thought.”

“I know. I tailed the Sheriff this morning. He’s extremely vigilant. I had to switch disguises. He almost made me.” and that had Bucky’s full attention. He and Natasha, they were a special level of spy, and if the Sheriff was paranoid enough to spot her despite the fact that _nobody_ could spot Natasha if she didn’t want them too, that spoke of a danger they weren’t seeing.

“We could call Stark in.” Bucky admitted, but Natasha shook her head.

“Not yet. Monday’s your first day of class. I want to see how they act in a more formal setting.” and Bucky could only agree. They watched the group begin to disperse and Bucky stepped back to put them out of a direct line of sight but also to keep the group in view.

“I’m going to tail the older Hale.” and Natasha lifted a brow.

“Peter. You don’t like him?”

“He texts Stiles. A lot.” and Natasha’s expression shuttered.

“Is it romantic?”

Bucky shook his head.

“That’s the only reason he’s still alive. They talk mostly about mythology stuff. Apparently Hale’s a bit of a history buff.” Natasha hummed but didn’t look any happier.

“Let me know if you find anything.” and Bucky’s grin was sharp, even as his gaze tracked where both Peter and Derek walked towards the Camaro registered in Derek’s name.

“Wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise.”


	4. Puppy Love

“Do you think Stiles is dating any of them?” Bucky found himself asking as he reviewed the layout of the school. He’d already memorized it, but it didn’t hurt to be sure.

“Yes.” and though he’d asked the question, he hadn’t expected the answer to be such a resounding yes. His head snapped up to glare at her from across the living room, and Natasha offered a smirk in return.

“Which one?” and her smirk just widened.

“It’s obvious, really.” and for one terrifying moment, Bucky thought it really _was_ Peter Hale - after all, he was the only person Stiles texted with any regularity - and he saw red. But then he realized that Natasha was far too calm for it to be the eldest living Hale.

“It’s Isaac, isn’t it?” and Natasha’s smirk widened to a wicked grin, obviously having known exactly the path Bucky’s mind would have gone down.

“Yes. They’ve been sleeping in the same bed.” and Bucky narrowed his eyes at her.

“I don’t want to know how you know that.” she rolled her eyes.

“They were asleep.” was all she responded with, “And the sheriff doesn’t mind. I’ve seen him checking up on them a few times.” now she frowned, and Bucky knew it was serious. “From what I understand, Stiles only really started sleeping through the night when Isaac started sleeping there with him.” and that had Bucky softening as well. He understood those days.

“What’s he nightmaring about, Nat?” and her eyes were opaque, like a cats when she turned to look at him.

“I don’t know yet.” and he knew it cost her to admit that. Rolling his shoulders to relieve the tension, he changed the subject back to the teen in question.

“So, Isaac. I’m not surprised, but,” he shrugged, and Natasha huffed out a laugh.

“You’re really surprised by his choice? That boy looks like a puppy.” Bucky lifted an unimpressed brow. “It’s very popular in this day and age, James.” and she only called him that when she was teasing him about his age. “Teenagers are always comparing each other to animals they find cute.”

“So you’re comparing him to a slobbering animal?” Natasha rolled her eyes.

“Try and keep up with the times. Puppy love is all the rage. And it’s not like you’re one to talk, you married the biggest puppy dog eyes of the country.” and Bucky’s response was to toss the couch pillow at her.


	5. Blackboard

They were at their lockers when Isaac stiffened, head tilted away from Stiles who'd been rambling about lacrosse practice. At Isaac's reaction he went silent, shifting immediately to look for whatever had caught Isaac's attention.

“What is it? What's wrong?”

“Someone's new – there's a lot of metal – and gunpowder.”

“Hunter?” Stiles asked, sidling closer, but Isaac shrugged, head still tilted. Staying close, Stiles pulled out his phone, sending out a group text.

_Isaac scented some danger – possible hunter. Be careful._

His phone immediately vibrated with the responses – everyone in the building agreeing to be careful. A response from Derek came telling them to all stick together, and that he and Peter would look into any newcomers. Stiles tilted his screen so Isaac could see and the wolf nodded, staying tense.

“Come on – we've got history with Alison and Lydia.” when they entered the classroom, Stiles slid into the seat in front of Lydia, Isaac sitting beside him with Alison behind him. He shared a look with the two girls before turning to the front as the classroom door opened. He didn't miss how Isaac sucked in a breath and felt Lydia's shaking grip catch his shirt from behind. He glanced back at her, saw how her lips trembled before she pressed them together, eyes wide as they looked at him. He reached back, dropping his hand, and he wound their fingers together. He knew what this reaction meant and focused on the man who'd entered at the front of the class. He was tall and well built and while he offered a friendly smile Stiles could see how his gaze darted over the whole room. Though his gaze didn't rest on any student in particular, Stiles knew he and his friends had been catalogued by this man.

“Good morning, class. My name is James Grant,” he said even as he wrote his name on the blackboard. “and I'm going to be your history teacher for the rest of the term. Since I wasn't here for the beginning, maybe you can help situate me.” he looked at the class who all stared back since it hadn’t actually been a question, but Stiles raised his hand. Mr. Grant's gaze fell on him but there was nothing of the sharp edge it had held when the new teacher had checked his surroundings. He wondered if it was possible that this man was a hunter if he didn't even have that hidden sneer that every hunter he'd ever encountered had had when in the room with something supernatural.

“Mr. Stilinski?” the teacher asked after referencing the attendance sheet.

“We've been leading up to the second world war.” Stiles replied and the man gave a nod.

“Alright then. Let's do a review of the events following the first world war and which ones carried on to affect the causes of the second.” he turned to the board and Stiles took that time to glance at Isaac who was pale as a sheet.

“What's wrong?” Stiles whispered, and Isaac swallowed.

“It's him.” Stiles nodded, tossing a glance to Alison who repeated the action before pulling out her phone.

“Wolfsbane?” Stiles whispered then, and Isaac his head.

“No – but he's got something mechanical – it's whirring.” Stiles turned his gaze back to the teacher, watching him carefully for the rest of the lesson. Mr. Grant seemed at ease, smiling at them all as they left, but that didn't mean he was innocent. When they left the class Stiles pulled out his phone, this time texting Peter since he knew that between the two Hale's the elder was the better researcher.

_Check out the history teacher. Wicked bad vibes for Lydia and Isaac._

Seconds later, his phone rang.

“Are you all alright?” It was Derek's voice that came through the phone and Stiles couldn't help but role his eyes. They worried too much.

“We're fine. Gonna go pick up the others then skip the afternoon. We should probably meet up and see what we've all figured out.”

“Don't you think skipping school will draw too much attention?”

“I think someone flashing a fang would be worse.” Derek gave a huff.

“Fine. We're in the preserve. Meet us here.”

“Will do. Get pizza.” Derek gave another huff but didn't argue so Stiles hung up with a grin. He sent out a mass text to the others to meet in the parking lot and 10 minutes later they were all headed to the preserve.


	6. Gloves

Stiles flopped down on the beg next to Isaac, wiggling around until he was pressed into Isaac’s side. The wolf huffed out a breath but pulled him in tighter which had Stiles grinning even as he typed out a message on his phone.

_To Peter Hale_

_Any luck on our new teacher yet?_

He waited for the response, flipping through a few tabs on his phone - things he’d been looking into for the pack - things he needed for school.

_From Peter Hale_

_Did you notice him wearing gloves in class?_

Was the response that finally came in, and Stiles frowned, glancing up at Isaac. The blonde looked away from the book he’d been reading to read the text over Stiles’ shoulder, frowning as well before shaking his head.

“I don’t think so. We would’ve noticed.” and Stiles was inclined to agree. Instead of texting back, he dialled Peter’s number.

“Why’d you want to know?” he said as soon as the call connected and Peter huffed.

“As always, your manners leave something to be desired.” Stiles just snickered.

“Yeah, whatever. What’s so important about gloves?”

“He wears one everywhere. Every time he leaves the house. Leather glove that cover his entire hand.”

“Hand? He’s only wearing one?”

“On his left hand, yes. Sometimes he wears both, but more often than not it’s just the one.”

“Well he definitely wasn’t wearing one in class.” but then Stiles paused, thinking back to the whirring Isaac had heard.

“Does he compensate for the one side?” and that earned him silence.

“You think it’s some sort of attachment?” And the way Peter said it made Stiles snort out a laugh.

“ Not the kind you’re thinking. Could he be hiding a prosthetic?” Peter was silent for another moment as he considered.

“It’s a possibility. And since it’s his left hand, there’s an easy way to find out.”

“Peter, whatever you’re thinking, don’t confront the weird new guy.”

“Whatever would make you think I wanted to do that?” was the reply, and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Oh, I don’t know, just a string of rash attacks.”

“It hurts that you bring that up even now.” but even Stiles could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. If you’re going to confront him, just don’t go alone. Last thing I need is to have to avenge your creepy ass.”

“As you wish, darling.” and as usual, there was a parting shot. “Give my best to Isaac.” and then the dial tone sounded in his ear and Stiles rolled his eyes, tossing his phone down so he could turn and cuddle further into Isaac.

“What an asshole.” he murmured, tucking his face against Isaac’s neck. The blonde just hummed in agreement, lifting a hand to scratch it through Stiles’ hair.

“What does it mean, if it’s a prosthetic?”

“Could mean a couple of things. Could be a war vet. It would explain the whirring noise, the weird glove habits, why Lydia sensed death, and the gunpowder. Also explain why he’s teaching History in a high school. Everyone needs to eat.” He was silent another moment, mulling things over. “It could also mean he’s just some psycho with some added robot enhancements. At this point, it wouldn’t shock me. We live in a world with werewolves and Iron Man. It wouldn’t be that far fetched.”


	7. Muse

“You must be Mr. James Grant. You and your wife have been the talk of the town.” Though Bucky had heard someone approaching, he hadn’t expected it to be one of the very people he’d been surveilling. The fact that he’d gotten so close before Bucky had had the chance to identify him also grated on his nerves. Bucky put on his best smile though, turning to offer his hand to the man in question. Peter Hale looked like the cat that had got the canary as he accepted the hand.

“Pleasure. And you are?”

“Peter Hale. My niece is in senior year at B.H.S.” and Bucky remembered that was true - Cora Hale was indeed enrolled in senior year, but she’d so far not been in his class. “Her friends speak highly of you.” and Bucky knew for a fact that wasn’t true, but who was he to argue a free chance to interrogate?

“That’s good to hear. It can be hard being new in town. I don’t think your niece has been in my class yet, though.”

“No, she has you on Thursday, but her friends have, and they’re always by to study.” Bucky gave a good natured laugh.

“Glad to hear they’re actually putting in the time. A lot of students can’t be bothered.”

“Oh no, these kids are extremely detail oriented.” and that was obviously an information drop, taunting him. Then Peter waved a hand as he stepped back, a clear dismissal, and Bucky only just resisted barring his teeth. The gesture wasn’t actually rude, per say, but in reality, any dismissal was rude. “Anyhow, I have to go, snacks to prepare for the brigade and all that. Good running into you.”

“Didn’t you need something?” and Bucky pointed at the coffee shop he’d been about to walk into. Natasha had declared a craving for their _pain au chocolate_.

“Derek, my nephew, he wanted me to pick up coffee while he works on his current project, caffeine is his muse and all that, but the line’s far too long. I’m going to try somewhere else.” and without giving Bucky anymore time, he was off in the other direction. Bucky waited until he was well out of range before pulling out his phone.

“They’re onto us.”


	8. Magic

“Stiles! We're going to be late for school!” Isaac's voice called from downstairs, and Stiles made a grumbling noise, frowning at his computer screen. With all the weirdness that was the history teacher Stiles hadn’t been able to help but do some research – nothing new there – but something was just itching at him about the guy and he couldn't figure out what. “Stiles-” Isaac said, suddenly at his elbow, and caught him as he flailed with a smirk. “You promised Erica we'd pick her and Boyd up.”

“Alright, alright I'm coming. Where's my phone? I need to text Derek.” his phone was handed to him before he could even finish asking and he gave a sheepish smile as Isaac all but herded him out of the house.

“What did you find?” Isaac asked as they climbed into the jeep, and Stiles shrugged. Ever since that first day, Isaac had felt particularly anxious about what the mechanical whir could be, but Stiles had no evidence that it was anything other than a highly functioning prosthetic.

“Not sure yet, but something's definitely not right. I texted Derek that I'm going over later. They have to have found something, and if not, we’re going to figure out just how we’re going to find out more. I don’t care if it involves some kind of felony, we’ve waited long enough.” he paused, glancing over at Isaac. “You want to come?”

“And watch you and Peter fight for the last word? Absolutely.” Stiles rolled his eyes but didn't disagree. He knew that he and Peter often ended up arguing just because they could – because they were willing to engage but also the only ones capable of keeping up with each others quips. It was when they were pulling up to Erica's parents house that Isaac spoke again.

“So far they haven’t even done anything. Do you really think they’re dangerous?” even as he asked the question he watched Stiles' eyes harden, a sharp smile twisting his mouth up at the corners.

“They better hope not.”

>>>

“I can confirm that at least his hand is a prosthetic.” Peter announced as soon as they’d arrived, and Stiles actually gaped at him.

“And you couldn’t share that earlier?” then his eyes narrowed. “How’d you even find out?”

“I simply introduced myself of course. Shook his hand. Gave a stronger handshake than any normal hand would be able to endure without any reaction. Not only did he not react, but I could feel the metal plates.”

“Problem is, I can’t find service records for any James Grant’s. Or any record of accidents.”

“What if he’s just rich?” Isaac put in, and though Peter rolled his eyes, Stiles actually patted his arm apologetically.

“A rich guy wouldn’t be teaching high school history in a town like this, sorry.” He started to pace, because at this point the puzzle was driving him crazy.

“What about her? We been able to find out anything about her?”

“Just her name. Natalia Grant. They’re married, she’s a house wife. Runs a lot of errands.” Stiles raised a brow at that. Peter waived him off.

“They’re often to stores. Furniture, appliances, hardware. The post office. Fairly average activities for a couple that’s just moved to a new town. The house they’re staying in needed work. She could be doing it herself.”

“She could be.” but Stiles sounded doubtful even to his own ears.

“Any chance to get in there? Check it out ourselves?” and Peter’s smirk said enough.

“What did you do?”

“I went to their house earlier. While you were in school and she was on an errand. Well kept space, honestly. I didn’t enter, as I don’t have a key and I didn’t want to break the lock and make it too obvious.” Stiles scoffed.

“That parts easy. I don’t need a key.” he glanced at his watch. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. We’ll surveil the house and as soon as they’re out, we’ll get in.”

“Have your lock picking skills somehow improved over the last year?” Stiles just offered a smug grin.

“Nope.”

“Then how exactly do we plan to get in undetected?” Stiles didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to because a grin stretched across his features.

“You’ve been practicing.” For the first time, Derek spoke up, frown in place.

“Practicing what?”

“Magic.”


	9. Clean

“Hurry! They could get back soon!” Scott hissed, and Stiles just rolled his eyes.

“Relax, Scott. Even a trip to the grocery store takes longer than 2 minutes, and it’s right around the corner.” Scott just shifted from foot to foot, eyes flashing a moment as he scanned the area.

“Something smells funny, Stiles. I don’t like it.” and that was something Stiles trusted.

“Keep your eyes peeled. They may have some sort of deterrent keeping people away.”

“Like what?”

“Well, if they know about the supernatural, the usual suspects.” Stiles muttered, flexing his fingers in front of the door knob. It opened with a faint click, and he couldn’t help the flush of excitement that coloured his cheeks.

“Come on, we’re in.” Scott followed him easily into the house, and Stiles noticed right away how he crinkled his nose.

“It smells like gun powder in here. And bleach.”

“Great, probably top two smells you’d expect in a serial killer’s house.” at that Scott actually scoffed.

“There’s no blood, Stiles. They’re not serial killers.” then Scott paused, lifting his nose up to get a good scent.

“That’s what the bleach is for.” Stiles muttered, making his way farther in. Frowning in concentration, he waved his hands slowly in front of them, like he was pushing aside curtains. Immediately, Scott sneezed. Stiles just shot him a glare.

“What? It’s weird when scents change quickly like that.” but Scott was already walking past him into the house, nose still up. “They spend the most time in here.” Scott announced from the living room, and Stiles followed, looking for what they could be doing. There was nothing at first glance, or even second, that was even remotely suspicious, but that’s when Stiles realized what was so weird; the place was meticulously clean. There wasn’t a single thing out of place - nothing even remotely homely.

“Check the bedrooms.” Stiles instructed, and Scott frowned but didn’t argue, making his way to the stairs. Stiles made his way further into the living room, letting his gaze pass over everything. They had to have _something_ here. They were living here after all. Closing his eyes, he put his hands out in front of him, palms down. He felt the low thrum of power go through him and then followed the feeling. He found what he was looking for in the form of a false wall next to the fireplace, and with careful fingers, he pried it open. What he found inside was a small room, and as he looked around, eyes widening in disbelief, he realized what he was looking at.

“Scott.” He hissed, and heard the hurried footsteps as his friend hurried to where he was.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” And that’s when Scott appeared in the small doorway beside him. “Oh my God. That’s you.” And Scott was right. Looking around the room, all they could see was surveillance photos of Stiles; by himself, with his dad, with his friends. Everyone around him had little sections for them as well, but the majority was Stiles, and it was giving him the creeps. He looked at the tech around them, wondering just what these people did that gave them Stark level tech, most of which he’d never even seen online before. So they were richer than rich, or had really good connections.

“We have to get out of here.” Scott hissed, worried now, and Stiles gave a slow nod, his gaze hardening.

“Yeah, but if they’re here for me, we’re not going to make it easy for them.” He put a hand out, sweat beading on his brow as he concentrated. Then the sparks shot out of the tech and fizzled into smoke. “There. Let’s see them try and replace that.”

“We should tell your Dad.” Scott murmured, looking around worriedly, and Stiles nodded.

“We’re going to find out who these people are, and then he’s going to arrest their ass.” Stiles just backed out of the room, scowling. “I knew it was too clean in here. They probably _are_ serial killers or something.”

“Serial killers fixated on you.” Scott noted, and Stiles’ scowl just darkened.

“Yeah well, we know what happens when people come to town trying to hurt others for no reason.” And now Scott nodded, clapping his shoulder, expression grim and determined.

“We take them out first.”


	10. Secret

Natasha felt her phone buzz in her pocket and answered it without taking her eyes off her target; Chris Argent.

“We have a problem.” and that had her attention.

“Tell me.”

“Stiles and his friend Scott McCall broke into our house.” and that had Natasha abandoning her post across from the grocery store, making her way quickly down the street.

“What do they know?”

“Not enough to know the truth - but enough to think we’re dangerous. In fact, Stiles thinks we’re serial killers who chose him as a target.” Natasha let out a soft laugh in surprise.

“You certainly look the part.” and Bucky huffed out a breath.

“Yeah well, he found the surveillance room. Knocked out all the equipment in there.”

“How do we know they broke in then?”

“Didn’t knock out the equipment in the rest of the house. There’s something about him, Nat. He’s got some sort of - ability. Couldn’t say what yet. But Scott McCall? He’s something else too. Camera on the front porch caught his eyes flashing so bright it was like a camera flare. And Stiles unlocked the door without even touching it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Anything else I should know?”

“Stiles is a fan of preemptive attacks. Watch your back. Whatever him and his group of friends are up to, I wouldn’t be surprised if they make a move against us.” Natasha didn’t answer right away, knowing Bucky couldn’t see her smile.

“I like him.” she admitted, almost rueful, and she could all but see Bucky’s answering smile.

“Me too.” Natasha hung up her phone, still intending on heading in the general direction of home to meet up with Bucky, but allowing her mind to wander with the possibilities. Both her and Bucky were enhanced, but neither of them had the kind of abilities it would take to unlock a door without touching it. She wondered if that came from Stiles’ father’s side of the family. Or, if because of the differences in their DNA, whatever the soviets used for their enhancements, if that had changed them enough, and then their daughter enough, to have become a mutation in Stiles. There were too many variables and not enough answers. She wondered if the sheriff knew what his son was capable of - if he knew that Scott McCall wasn’t completely human. On that note, was that what tied the group of them together? The Hales? The other teenagers? Natasha realized all the unanswered questions were starting to annoy her. There were so many secrets - and she was going to unravel them, no matter what it took.


	11. Superstition

Stiles woke up with his head pounding, laying down but with his shoulders aching and his left arm numb. Even as he shifted to try and relieve the tension, he realized his wrists were tied behind his back. His eyes snapped open and he groaned - or tried to only to find a gag over his mouth - before squeezing his eyes closed against the sudden pain of the daylight streaming into the room. He wondered if he had a concussion. He was pretty sure he’d read somewhere that feeling that lancing pain from light could be a sign of a concussion. Considering he didn’t know how he’d gotten there, it wouldn’t be that big of a stretch. Especially considering how much the back of his head was throbbing.

Carefully, he opened his eyes again, taking stock of the room he was in. It was tiny and dingy, no more than a cell really, and the window the light was coming through was high up on the wall. He was pretty sure if he looked out he’d be eye level with the ground. The room was dirty - probably not used often if ever. He wondered if they were in an abandoned building or somewhere where people actually let rooms get like this just to scare their kidnapping victims. The fact that Stiles’ mind went there told him he was recovering fast enough, but also that he’d been kidnapped one too many times. Not that he’d been kidnapped _that_ often, but really, wasn’t once enough? Carefully, since his whole body was sore enough that he couldn’t really tell if he had anymore injuries, Stiles propped himself up so he was sitting against the far wall. He flexed his hands, curling his fingers in and out to try and get blood flowing back through his arms. He was still stuck on the fact of - who the hell had grabbed him? They weren’t facing any weird sort of supernatural baddies at the moment. That’s when it hit him.

They’d just found the creepy room with all the photos of him and his friends in it. Maybe he’d actually been grabbed by the creepy serial killer couple and they were going to torture him to death. He shook his head against the thought. No reason to go down that road yet. It could be anyone and anything and he needed to keep his head on straight. He tried to reach for his Spark, but wasn’t at all surprised when it slipped through his grasp. He’d only just started to learn how to use it and it usually took his full concentration to do anything. Hurting and scared like he was? He wasn’t surprised, but he was a little disappointed. The clank of someone unlocking the door from the other side had Stiles stiffening in both anticipation and fear. He’d finally see who’d grabbed him - but on the flip side they may just be coming to kill him. He figured it was sort of in his favour to be grabbed instead of just killed on the spot because it usually meant they wanted something, right? It rarely ever meant instant death. He could only hope that was the case here. When the door was finally hauled open, which told him it was heavy to say the least, three men in full tactical gear came in, armed and ready.

“This is the kid?” one scoffed, and Stiles glared as best he could. Another one nodded.

“Who cares what he looks like? He’s important to the asset.” Stiles made a sound of surprise, because hell he’d been pretty sure it was either something supernatural related or the serial killer theory, but this made no sense, and all three sets of eyes bore into him. The third man who’d yet to speak moved forward and grabbed his arm, yanking him to his feet even as he squirmed and tried to move away. The man held firm.

“Where do we want him?”

“Interrogation. I’ve got a few questions for him.” and that had Stiles feeling woozy with dread. He’d seen the movies. He knew what ‘interrogation’ meant. He yanked at the arm holding him, trying to pull away again, but the first man just turned around and hit him hard in the stomach with the butt of his gun. Stiles doubled over, air rushing out of his lungs. The second man moved in then, grabbing his other arm to help the third hold him up, and though Stiles tried to drag his feet, there wasn’t much he could do as he struggled to catch his breath.

>>>

Bucky’s head shot up at the sound of quiet chatter on the scanner. He held up a hand for Natasha to still and she did so immediately, turning her head so she could also listen to the scanner.

“He’s been missing for 2 hours. All units to keep on the look out for-” but Bucky was already on his feet, already strapping himself.

“Stiles was grabbed.” and Natasha followed suit immediately.

“Where?”

“By his house. Means he was being watched. It was caught on camera.” and Natasha nodded, moving to the computer, pulling up all footage for all the local traffic cameras by the Stilinski household. She found it in minutes, and cursed. Bucky was immediately at her shoulder, watching her replay the footage, and his cursing was much more colourful.

“How’d they even know we were here?” he hissed, and Natasha shook her head, not answering but sending a screen grab to Tony. The computer screen split itself into two moments later, Tony’s face taking up one half while a GPS map took up the other.

“I’ve tracked his cell phone. Looks like it was ditched, but caught the license plate on a couple cameras just outside of Beacon Hills.” The map shifted to show the area in question. “There are a couple abandoned buildings in the area. One recently had the power turned back on. Around the same time you two got to town, actually.” and now Tony was frowning, obviously frustrated that he hadn’t noticed sooner.

“Thanks for your help, Tony. We’ll call you when we’ve got him back.”

“Want me to tell Rogers?” and Bucky actually hesitated.

“He’ll want to come down.”

“That such a bad thing?” and Bucky sighed, shaking his head.

“No. Tell him.” and Tony nodded before he disappeared from the screen, leaving only the map.

“Are we sure this is where they’ll be?” Natasha asked, watching Bucky carefully, and Bucky just stared at the map, deliberating. “If we’re wrong, they’ll have him for longer.”

“Chances are high it’s them.” Bucky admitted.

“But?”

“But if we’re wrong.” and he let the statement hang there.

“If we’re wrong, we’ll figure out another way to find him.” and that was something Bucky could agree with. “Let’s go.”

>>>

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.” Stiles gasped out for the millionth, chest aching as he hunched over in the chair he was tied to. He was pretty sure his whole torso would be black and blue at this point, and even breathing hurt. “I don’t believe in ghosts.” and that earned him a smirk from one of the men, but he wasn’t lying. He didn’t believe in that superstitious shit. He’d seen enough to know things were either real or they weren’t; monsters were real, and if ghosts existed Stiles was sure they would’ve seen some by now. As it was, he didn’t think these men meant an actual ghost, but by calling him that, they let something on; they were _afraid_ of this man. It was dark out now, with only the three warehouse lights brightening the space. He’d been there for hours, and at this point he was wondering if anyone was going to find him.

“He’s here because of you.” and Stiles shook his head, not understanding.

“ _Who_?”

“The asset. You’re important to him.”

“How do you even know that?” and rather than a response they just hit him again. He let out a whimper, blinking back tears. The sound of a vehicle approaching had Stiles lifting his head, but the men in front of him just shared a smirk.

“Back up’s here.” and that had Stiles’ stomach sinking. He watched as one of the men moved towards the door, opening it to greet the new men, and Stiles wasn’t sure if the feeling he was going to vomit was from the pain or the realization that he was so ridiculously outnumbered that the chances of him dying here had just skyrocketed. He counted 10 men as they filtered into the room, and listened as they all traded instructions; not saying a word about where they were or just who this asset was that they were after. It had become clear to Stiles pretty early on that he’d been grabbed for information, and if that proved unhelpful, to be used as leverage. He wondered who exactly this asset was, and just why these guys thought he would care at all about Stiles. He watched the new guys filter out, setting up posts or whatever, and the three men who’d grabbed him initially turned back to him, regarding him with a look he didn’t like at all. The one who’d been doing most of the hitting pulled out a knife, looking at the other two, and at their shared nods, came towards him.

Stiles felt all the colour drain from his face, and wondered if he actually managed to pass out for a second, because between one blink and the next, the man was right in front of him with the knife, and then he was turned away as gunfire sounded outside. With a miniature _boom_ from outside, they were plunged into darkness, with only faint moonlight streaming through the two windows nearly at ceiling level. Stiles squinted against the darkness, heart pounding so loud he was surprised he could even hear the gunshots being fired outside.

That’s when the screaming started, and Stiles wasn’t sure if he’d be better off with the men here or whoever was coming. Since he couldn’t hear any growls, the telltale sign of werewolves, he could only assuming whoever was coming was this asset they’d been asking about, but that wasn’t exactly comforting. The door flew open and the two men further ahead started shooting towards it, but there was nobody there. The man with the knife moved behind him, knife pressed tight to his throat, and Stiles struggled to keep his breathing even so he didn’t cut himself by accident. A single, echoing gunshot broke the silence, and one of the men crumpled without even making a sound. For a moment, there was a shape in the darkness, a man who all but filled the doorway with a glint of silver, but then he disappeared into the shadows, just like a ghost, and Stiles could now understand where the rumours came from. Another shape sprang out of the darkness, smaller than the man he’d seen in the doorway, and Stiles had no idea where this person came from but they were on the other man standing ahead of him and with a slick, sharp sound, that man also fell. Stiles realized now it was a woman, her violent red hair the only colour in the room. That is, it was, until he realized in her hand was a knife, and it was dripping blood.

“Let him go, and we’ll kill you quickly.” the woman offered, and the man’s grip actually tightened on him.

“We know what he is to you, _вдова._ ” and the woman actually smiled.

“Then you’ll know we can’t let you live for touching him.” and Stiles still didn’t understand, but he recognized the woman now - this was the woman who lived with his new history teacher. The one he’d thought was a serial killer. She must’ve worn a wig around town, but she was familiar in a way he didn’t quite understand. The flash of silver to his right had him stiffening, and he could only just see out of the corner of his eye as an actual metal hand wrapped around the wrist holding the knife. The man’s wrist had jerked in reaction, the knife just barely cutting into his skin, and he gasped at the unexpected pain. The growl that followed had Stiles wondering if whoever the metal hand belonged to was actually a werewolf, because one second the hand with the knife was there, the next there was a rush of cold air where the man had stood behind him. He flinched at the crack of bone, knowing the man was dead as well, but kept his eyes on the woman in front of him. She no longer looked threatening, and he wondered if she was just that good of an actor or really did mean him no hard. Carefully, she moved forward, and with gentle fingers she untied his wrists from the arms of the chairs, then his ankles from the legs.

“Take your time.” she murmured as she reached out and gently started helping him to his feet. He felt woozy, and without meaning to found himself leaning into her. Her arm went around him but he didn’t bother pulling away, limping towards the door. As soon as they were outside he sucked in a breath, despite the pain. She eased him back, letting him lean against the outside of the building. He watched as she moved back to the doorway, looking inside, and he realized her expression was actually one of concern as she looked back to him.

“How hurt are you?”

“Why do you care?” he shot back, and that’s when the man appeared from the shadows to step outside of the building to stand beside the woman, and Stiles recognized his history teacher. Now he could see just why Isaac had been able to hear a whirring; the man’s arm was completely metal, and Stiles found himself staring, eyes wide. “Holy shit.” they were both watching him now, wary but still not threatening.

“Holy shit. You’re Avengers.”


	12. Fantasy

The darkness erupted with the sound of growls, and Stiles couldn’t help his goofy grin as the forest around the warehouse where he was standing with _two freaking Avengers_ lit up with the supernatural glow of werewolf eyes. Both agents immediately had guns in their hands, and Stiles lurched forward, putting himself between the wolves and them without even a moments hesitation.

“Stop! Don’t shoot! They’re here to help.” and the moment he’d stepped forward the guns were lowered so as not to be pointed at him, despite the matching scowls now aimed in his direction. He just turned towards the woods.

“I’m okay,” he called out, and the first person out of the woods was the blonde the two ex assassins automatically recognized as Isaac Lahey. His eyes weren’t the usual blue though, instead they glowed a bright gold, and his mouth was open in a snarp, revealing sharp fangs.

“What the hell is he?” Bucky muttered, and Stiles just tossed a smirk over his shoulder.

“Werewolf.” and he stepped forward even as Isaac all but sprinted towards him, hands everywhere as they checked for injury. When he touched Stiles’ chest, Stiles hissed out a breath, and a near feral snarl ripped through the air even as more of Stiles’ friends started appearing out of the trees, approaching but keeping a firm eye on Bucky and Natasha.

“Who the hell are they?” and that was Derek who asked, eyes blood red, and Stiles actually had the audacity to laugh.

“What, you don’t recognize Natasha Romanov, Black Widow, and Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier?” there was a moment of absolute silence before Isaac laughed, though his gaze was hard, eyes still glowing as he gazed at them both over Stiles’ shoulder. Most of the werewolves looked at them with varying looks of awe, Derek had the same hard look in his eyes as Isaac.

“What are they doing here, Stiles?” Derek asked, the growl clear in his voice.

“Come off it, sourwolf. They’re superheroes who saved my life. Isn’t that good enough for you?”

“No.” and both Bucky and Natasha turned their gazes on Derek. He stared right back.

“You were taken because of them.” and Stiles couldn’t argue that. He’d actually forgotten that in the view of their identity. “You were hurt because of them. Why?” Stiles turned, leaning into Isaac who had his arm wrapped around Stiles’ shoulders, keeping him close.

“Why are you here?” and then he remembered that the whole reason they’d been hurting him was because of the one they called ‘the asset’. “They were beating the shit out of me because they said the asset was in town because of me. Cause I was important to him.” At the mention of his injuries, growls erupted from the group. Natasha and Bucky exchanged a look before looking back at Stiles.

“We’re happy to speak with you, but not here. This location isn’t secure. If you want to come back with us-”

“He’s not going anywhere with you. Who knows what your motives are?” Derek shot back, and Bucky actually rolled his eyes.

“Says the guy straight out of a fantasy novel.” Bucky shot back, and Stiles snickered before he groaned, slumping into Isaac.

“No laughing. Laughing hurts.” he waived a hand in the air to encompass the group. “We can all meet back in Beacon Hills. My dad will be present. I’m technically still a minor and since _technically_ you count as law enforcement, you need parental consent and presence to speak to me.” he offered them a grin which Bucky returned.

“Sure thing, kid. Whatever makes you most comfortable.” even as the wolves lead him away, they didn’t miss the one they knew to be his best friend, Scott McCall, giving what was supposed to be a whispered exclamation.

“He’s married to Captain America!” and Bucky only just resisted laughing out loud, dodging Natasha’s elbow.

“Let’s call this in. Coulson will want in on this.”


	13. Test

Stiles wasn’t sure if he wanted to actually speak with Bucky and Natasha. They’d kept a polite distance while Stiles healed. They’d reached out to Stiles’ Dad, following Stiles’ implied instructions to arrange a meeting. His Dad had come to him with the information, confused, but agreeable if it was what Stiles wanted.

“What did you read off them, Dad?” and John had huffed out a breath, but sat down at the table with Stiles.

“They’re anxious. They really want this conversation.” Stiles sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Any idea why?” and John reached out a careful hand, still worried about his injuries, but not willing to avoid the physical contact.

“No.” he replied honestly. “But you know better than I do, they’re trying to be good people, aren’t they?” and Stiles nodded. “Whatever it is they want to talk about, it’s probably important. Don’t you think it’s worth hearing them out?”

So here Stiles was, waiting for his Dad to get home because once he was here, Bucky and Natasha were both supposed to arrive. The moment his dad’s car pulled into the driveway, he was at the front door, waiting for him.

John wasn’t surprised, after all, his son had always been an anxious one.

“Do you think they’ll know as soon as you get here?” Stiles asked as soon as he was out of his car. “After all, they are super spies.”

“Come inside, kid. Whatever they want to talk about, it’s better off done inside.” Stiles let his Dad herd him into the kitchen where John started rooting around for food.

“You’re not going to find the bacon, Dad. I already threw it out. You thought it would be harder to find if it was already cooked but you were wrong.” and Stiles was smug. The doorbell rang and Stiles went still, almost as if he’d forgotten that the two were coming. John moved towards the door since Stiles didn’t seem inclined, and he was correct in his assumption when Stiles moved to follow to the doorway to the hall but didn’t follow further. John opened the door to find both Bucky Barnes and Natasha Romanov waiting on his doorstep, and stood back to invite them in, which they both accepted gratefully.

“Thank you, for inviting us into your home.” Natasha offered immediately. John inclined his head.

“Of course. Please, the living room is through here. Can we get you anything to drink?” they both shook their head but followed John’s directions into the living room. Natasha immediately settled herself on the couch, offering John a smile, and Bucky followed her lead, sitting next to her. John took his seat in his favourite armchair, glancing at the door.

“Stiles?” his son appeared immediately in the door, fidgeting in the doorway before moving to his father’s side, not sitting but hovering. Used to his sons behaviour, John ignored it, turning to their guests.

“You have to understand, we’re confused.” John admitted, and Natasha nodded.

“We do, and that’s why we arranged this meeting.” she admitted.

“Were those actually Hydra agents?” Stiles blurted out, and everyone went still for a moment before Bucky nodded.

“Yes.”

“And they were after you.”

“Yes.”

“But they grabbed me instead. So they knew why you were here.”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“We don’t know yet, but we’ve got the best on it.”

“So Tony Stark is hacking through SHIELD files to figure out how Hydra got access to your location.” and Bucky was smiling again.

“Something like that.”

“Still begs the question - why did they think I’m important to you? Am I really why you’re both in town?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Why should we trust you?” and Stiles’ frustration was coming through, his distrust. “We’ve had a lot of people coming through town - saying they were friends, saying they want to help us. They never do. What makes it any more true with you?” his one hand was tapping out a constant rhythm against the chair his dad was sitting in. John put his hands up for calm, which slowed (though did not still) Stiles’ motions.

“It’s not that we don’t trust you.”

“It’s that we don’t trust you.” Stiles cut in, glaring at his Dad. “We don’t trust you. It doesn’t matter who you’re friends with, or who you’re married to. Everyone can change.”

“And we have. We both started as normal people. I joined the army to fight for what I believed in. When I became someone else, it wasn’t by choice.” Bucky took a breath, leaning forward to meet both Stiles and his father’s gaze, expression sincere. “This is who I am now. I fight for what I believe in.”

“But how did that bring you here?” and Stiles’ voice was nearly desperate. He looked at Natasha, who’d stayed mostly silence, and she met his gaze evenly.

“We aren’t supposed to say. Not without an NDA.” and Stiles just stared back, mind racing.

“Because we mean something to you. I mean something to you.” she nodded and Stiles looked away, looking around the room. When the thought hit him, he nearly swayed against his Dad’s chair, and John was immediately on his feet to steady his son.

“Stiles, what’s wrong?” Stiles didn’t answer though, tearing out of the room. They heard him rush up the stairs, heard the thumps as he threw stuff around, but before John could follow, make sure he was okay, he was rushing back down the stairs, photograph in hand. He thrust it towards his Dad who accepted it before going pale. Stiles watched his Dad carefully, expression grim. When his Dad looked up, his expression was raw.

“Why are you showing me this?” Stiles looked from him to the two sitting on their couch, and John sucked in a breath. With shaky hands, he returned to his chair, sinking into it, the photo still in his grip. Stiles moved to stand behind his Dad, expression still pinched.

“You’re them, aren’t you?” and they didn’t respond, just staring.

“Who do you think we are, Stiles?” Natasha finally prompted, and Stiles swallowed, glancing back down at the picture, at how his father now sat slumped, still staring at the photo.

“Mom was adopted. Completely sealed. She looked, and so did I, but we couldn’t find anything because it was all erased.” he paused, looking at the photo of the three of them when Stiles was no older than 3, sitting together in a park. This photo had held a place on their mantle for years, before all pictures with his mother in them disappeared and Stiles was forced to salvage them from the garbage after one of his father’s drunk binges. “Problem is, we didn’t actually know exactly when she was born because she was dropped off on the footsteps of an orphanage in Poland with nothing with her except for what she was wearing and the blanket she was wrapped in. The orphanage made her birthday the day she was found.” he was staring at Natasha now, expression almost angry as he regarded her. “That’s why you’re here. Because of her.” and he realized why he recognized her now - why her face was familiar but not; because she looked like his mother. Bucky reached out a hand, putting it over Natasha’s, but also drawing Stiles’ gaze by moving.

“Yes. That’s why we’re here.”

“How.” and Stiles could feel the tears in his eyes now, but he held strong.

“When I was in the Red Room, there was a man, on loan from Hydra. He would train us.” Natasha said softly, so softly Stiles almost didn’t hear her. “He managed to break his programming, and helped me break my own.” she glanced at James, gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “We loved each other. As well as we could back then. Then I was pregnant. We knew we couldn’t both escape. That a child would never be safe. The Soviet Union still held too much power - but we could run. James- ” her voice broke off, but she took a steady breath. “James gave himself up so that I could escape with our daughter. I knew we wouldn’t be able to get far, so I left her somewhere I knew had no affiliation with the Red Room. Somewhere she would be safe. I lead them away from there and that’s when they caught me. By then, my body had healed to the point where they couldn’t even tell I’d been pregnant.” and Stiles felt the first tear fall as he swallowed, trying to get control of his voice.

“So it’s true. Mom was - You’re-”

“We’re nothing to you.” and Stiles recoiled at the words and so Bucky put his hands up in a gesture of both surrender but also to let him speak. “But we want to be. No matter what blood says, we haven’t been a part of your life. We have no more right to you than any stranger off the street. But if you’ll give us the chance, we would really like to change that.” Stiles looked at his Dad, who was still staring at the picture, and couldn’t help but feel a flash of hurt. Sometimes he forgot that his Dad wasn’t always capable of stepping out of the past. He looked back up at the two people sitting on his couch, the two people watching him.

“I want to believe you.” he admitted, lifting a hand to wipe the few tears that had fallen from his cheek.

“But?” Natasha prompted once more, and Stiles shrugged.

“It’s hard to believe that after all this time, you show up now.”

“We only just found the trail of where she’d gone.” Natasha admitted. “The moment we knew the truth about where our daughter had gone and who she’d been, we were here.” and Stiles gave a sharp nod.

“Okay. I - I think we need some time.” and from the way Natasha’s hand tightened on Bucky’s he knew she didn’t like it any better than he did that Stiles was looking at his father with as much grief as he’d shown when he spoke of his mother. They both understood that this was a test though, a test to see if they still wanted him even if he pushed them away at first. It was Bucky that stood first, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket and scribbling two numbers on it.

“These are our personal numbers.” he offered, putting it on the coffee table instead of trying to hand it to either of them. “Please reach out when you’re ready.”

“You’re not going to keep in touch with me?” Stiles asked, and the wry tone of his voice, the cut off expression, they both knew he expected to never hear from then again.

“Well, we already have your number.” Bucky said with a smirk. “S’only polite to make sure you have ours.” and Stiles blinked in surprise before he cracked a small smile of his own, offering a nod. Then Bucky followed Natasha to the door, where they let themselves out. As soon as they were outside, Bucky’s shoulders slumped.

“I think I’ve changed my mind. It would be good to have Steve here.” and Natasha offered a sad smile of her own. Bucky resolved to make sure Steve dragged Clint with him.


	14. Tease

The knock on the door was expected, but Bucky was still on his feet in a split second, all but rushing to answer it. The moment it opened and Steve was in sight, he launched forward, grabbing the other man in a tight hug. Steve all but beamed as he held Bucky in return, moving them both inside.

“You’re going soft.” Steve teased, “Missing me already.” and Bucky grumbled, holding tight.

“As if I don’t know that your bags were packed before I even called.” he shot back. Steve just laughed.

“Can’t argue there. I missed you.” and now it was Bucky’s turn to offer a dopey grin.

“Where’s Clint?”

“Enjoying your snack collection.” responded the archer in question, and Bucky let go of Steve just to dart into the kitchen, the action followed by a squeal of pain as Steve assumed Bucky regained possession of his snacks. He ignored it, moving further into the house to find Natasha sitting in the living room, flipping through a book. He wasn’t fooled.

“Not as easy as you thought, huh?” and she offered a rueful smile.

“Maybe we should have gone the long lost cousin route.” he returned the expression, lounging on the couch, looking around.

“I think you’ll be surprised. I don’t think he’ll pass up the chance to reach out.”

“You didn’t see him. And his father.” that had Steve looking over, frown in place.

“Is that a problem?” Natasha shrugged.

“I don’t think so. Not anymore at least.” she set down the book, not even bothering to pretend anymore. “We know he has a history with alcohol, but beyond that, it’s hard to say.” but her frown was telling enough. “There weren’t any pictures of her in the house. Despite the fact that we know she didn’t pass until Stiles was 9.”

“Maybe they aren’t big on photos.” Natasha shook her head.

“There are dozens in their house. But they’re all recent. Nothing older than Stiles at probably 15-16.” Steve sat up, concerned as well.

“You think that’s on purpose?”

“The photo Stiles brought down, it was hidden in his room. I’m imagining somewhere his Dad wouldn’t find.” Steve didn’t respond, looking towards the doorway, in the general direction that they could still hear Bucky and Clint nattering over food. Then Steve shook his head, looking back to her.

“Whatever’s happened, I think he’ll reach out. You just have to be ready to accept him, in whatever form he feels ready to offer.” he stood, moving to go break up what was quickly becoming an argument. When he glanced back, there was an understanding to his gaze that Natasha knew meant he was thinking of all the people he’d lost by being frozen for so many years. “Having the two of you in his life? It’s a connection to his mother he never thought he’d have. But it’s probably also reopened the wound. You both look young and healthy. From what the reports say, Claudia Stilinski had a rough end.” and Natasha gave a slow nod. Steve was right. She offered another small smile, a thanks but also a way to change the subject.

“If you get them out of the kitchen, I’ll cook dinner.” Steve grimaced, but disappeared from sight.

“Nothing too spicy!” and Natasha’s smile widened, even as she reached into her pocket and pulled out the picture she’d found tucked into their mailbox early that morning. A picture of a young woman who looked just like her, with dark curls and bright eyes the same whiskey colour as Stiles’. She smiled again, tucking the photo away, and moved to follow Steve.


	15. Storm

It was nearly 2am when Natasha heard the ding of the GPS on Stiles’ phone announce that he was leaving his house. She glanced out the window at the pouring rain, and immediately grabbed her coat and keys, heading for the door. While she was fairly certain he hadn’t been kidnapped, after all, a kidnapper wouldn’t take his phone, it was better to be safe than sorry. She followed the GPS in the car, taking care in the downpour. The rain grew worse by the minute, and when she finally stopped, she’d pulled up next to Stiles’ jeep in a public park’s parking lot. She turned her car off, not seeing him in his own, and reached for the umbrella in the backseat. She saw Stiles up ahead then, sitting in the Gazebo and staring out at the rain. Even from here she could see his shivers so she grabbed a thermal blanket as well. Then she stepped out of the car and into the rain, making her way to the gazebo. He didn’t even react to her approach - in fact, he didn’t react until she’d draped the blanket around his shoulders, and then he jerked in surprise, blinking up at her. He didn’t say anything though, just turned to look back out at the rain. She was glad at least that he pulled the blanket in tighter around himself. She settled down onto the bench beside him, also saying nothing, gazing out into the rain. They sat there in silence for the better part of an hour, listening to the wind howl around them, and the rain batter against the Gazebo’s roof.

“Mom and I used to do this.” Stiles said then, breaking the easy silence that had settled between them. “Before she got sick. Anytime there was a big rainstorm she used to pack me into the jeep and we’d drive to the closest park which was often here, and sit and watch.” Natasha didn’t respond, waiting, knowing there was more. “The last time we came out here, she was really sick. She should’ve been in the hospital already.” and there was no missing the bitterness in his voice. “That was the first time she said that I was trying to kill her. She left me here, by myself, and I had to walk home in the rain. It took me hours. That’s when I knew that I’d already lost my mom.” They settled into silence once again, and Natasha mourned not only for the daughter she’d never know but for this boy who’d had to witness his mother leave him in spirit even before her body was gone.

“I don’t remember bearing a child.” Natasha admitted, and Stiles actually turned to look at her, watching the side of her face. She tilted her head towards him to meet his gaze.

“You said you remembered having mom.” she gave a delicate shrug.

“I remember flashes. I remember holding her. I remember how much I loved her, with everything that I was. And I remember being scared. There was so much fear in our lives then. No place I could be safe with a child. I remember the ache,” and she put a hand to her chest, pressing her palm against the beat of her own heart. “Of when she was gone. Knowing I’d never be able to see her again if I wanted her to live a good, long life. And I remember the first time I saw James after that. How much it hurt to look at him and know everything I’d lost, and how much I hated that he got to forget.” she gave another shrug, looking back out at the rain.

“And then I forgot again too, for a time.” Stiles just looked back out at the rain and Natasha followed suit. She knew when not to push.

“I’m glad you finally remembered.” he all but whispered, and Natasha offered him a small smile.

“Me too.”


	16. Strawberries

Isaac watched as Stiles lounged in his desk chair, staring at his computer screen. He’d been sitting there for nearly two hours, but in the last hour or so he hadn’t even so much as scrolled through the page he was on.

“You know you can talk to me, right? About whatever’s bothering you.” and Stiles spun around, all but flailing as he struggled to stay in the chair.

“What? Nothing’s bothering me. I’m fine. Totally fine.” was the immediate response, but when Isaac just lifted a brow, Stiles huffed out a breath. Pushing out of the chair, he flopped down onto the bed next to where Isaac was lounging, and the blonde pulled him in easily, rubbing his nose against the crown of Stiles’ head.

“I always knew who I was.” Stiles said then, and Isaac stilled, listening. “I always knew where I came from, and where I fit. Now, I have no idea. Who am I really? Where do I fit when I have two of the freaking Avengers as grandparents but they look younger than my Dad does?”

“You’re still pack.” Isaac murmured in response, and he felt Stiles’ smile against his skin when the other wiggled around to press his face into Isaac’s neck.

“Yeah, I am.” but Isaac could tell that wasn’t everything. “What if I can’t stay here?” he breathed out, and Isaac’s arms tightened around him.

“Why?”

“Because it’s dangerous. I was grabbed by a freaking Nazi organization intent on torturing me to death to lure Bucky out. What if they keep coming cause they know who I am? What if they come after my Dad? After you?”

“Then we fight them.” was Isaac’s growled reply, holding on as tight as he could without hurting Stiles. “They can’t force you to leave.” but then he let out a breath, pressing his face tightly into Stiles’ hair, taking in a deep breath of his scent. “But if you did have to leave, I’d come with you.” and Stiles pulled away just to surge up and press their lips together.

>>>

“Come on.” Isaac said later, bundling Stiles into a sweater, pushing him towards the door.

“Where are we going?” but Isaac just offered a smile and a quick kiss and Stiles grumbled but followed. When they got outside and Isaac took Stiles keys, he pouted. “I always drive.”

“Now you need to just relax.” Stiles huffed but didn’t argue, just stuck to muttering under his breath about werewolves and their controlling habits, but he still got in the passenger side. Isaac beamed at him, which just had Stiles huffing out another breath, but Isaac caught the tail end of the smile he hid by burrowing into his sweater. When they pull into the drive for the Hale house, Stiles shoots Isaac a baleful look.

“I 100% could have driven us here.” but Isaac didn’t say anything, just parked and came around to take Stiles’ hand, leading him inside. He didn’t have to be a werewolf to hear how Stiles’ breath actually caught at the sight of the entire pack waiting in the living room, smiling in welcome. It was Lydia who came up first, stepping in to press a kiss to Stiles’ cheek.

“Settle in. We brought snacks.” she promised, and that had Stiles choking out laugh, letting Isaac lead him further into the room and then Allison pull him down so he ended up snug between her and Isaac, with Scott behind them so the three of them could use him as a pillow. Erica and Boyd both made themselves comfortable behind Isaac, Cora was curled up against Allison’s back with her head in Derek’s lap, who sat next to Scott, Peter on his other side. When Lydia came back, she curled up against Allison, and offered up the bowl she’d brought with. It was filled with freshly cut strawberries, and Stiles laughed again, eyes wet. When she offered him one, he accepted easily. He realized then that the TV was on, playing a movie at low volume, and Stiles let himself be lulled by the quiet conversation and the company, accepting the strawberry every time someone pressed one to his lips. They lay together like that for the better part of the afternoon, feeding each other fruit and comfort, and that’s when Stiles realized just why Isaac had brought him here. This was the reminder that family could be whoever you wanted it to be, and that it would always be his choice. That he would always be theirs. Stiles slid his hand into Isaac’s, twining their fingers together and giving a gentle squeeze. Isaac squeezed back, nuzzling against his neck, and Stiles finally felt settled.


	17. Weapon

Stiles snuck up to the back door of the house where Natasha and Bucky were staying. They’d told him he could drop by anytime, and while he wanted to take them up on it, he also didn’t want to give them time to prepare for it - he wanted it to be genuine. Not that he didn’t think they had been genuine so far, but he wanted to be sure. He was fairly certain he was entitled to some insecurities over how they acted since they had pretended to be complete strangers when they’d first arrived. He peaked in the window, and though it was mostly covered by a curtain, he couldn’t see anyone immediately inside. He considered picking the lock manually for a second and then rolled his eyes. Why even bother? Looking around to make sure nobody could see him, he wrapped his hand around the door handle, and brow creasing in concentration, used his Spark to unlock the door. With a soft click, it was open, and Stiles grinned, twisting the knob carefully and letting himself in. He wondered if they somehow still knew he was there, and then wondered if it was really smart to sneak into the house where two super spies lived, but then he decided they had it coming. He closed the door behind him, making sure to be as quiet as possible, turning to face the room. He immediately froze in his tracks. The kitchen table was literally covered in weapons - guns, knives, even a rifle, just laid out without a care in the world.

“Holy shit.” he murmured, moving towards the table. Carefully, he ran his fingertips across one of the knives, watching it glint under the fluorescent kitchen lights. Shaking his head, he moved towards the hall, keeping his steps light. If he didn’t see them by the time he’d reach the living room he’d call out; he didn’t want to creep on anyone sleeping or anything. The moment he turned into the hall, he found himself faced with the tip of an arrow, and he threw his hands up in the air in surrender, gaze following the length of the arrow to find it in a fully drawn bow, the man on the other end watching him with clear focus.

“I swear I’m allowed to be here.” he blurted out immediately, and the man holding the bow lifted a brow.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Stiles. Stilinski. I’m literally the kid. The reason they’re here and all that.”

“And you thought breaking in was the answer?” Stiles dropped his arms now, because if the guy was going to shoot he would have already.

“Hey, you wanna shoot the sheriff’s kid, go right ahead. Not to mention what they’ll say.” he said with a wave at the ceiling, assuming they were upstairs since nobody had come to his immediate rescue.

“Barton.” and that was Bucky’s voice barking out the order. It had Stiles jumping and the man lowering his bow. That’s when it clicked. Barton. This was Clint Barton, aka Hawkeye. Bucky came into view then, scowl on his face, though it lessened when he saw Stiles was actually grinning.

“Hey, hope you don’t mind. Popped by for a visit.”

“Forgot how to knock too, apparently.” Barton tossed in, and Bucky just glared at him, turning back to Stiles.

“Ignore him. I don’t think he’s ever knocked a day in his life.” Stiles nodded, fidgeting now that he’d been caught.

“So, uh, what’s the deal with the kitchen?” and both men blinked at him before realization dawned.

“They were just cleaned.” and Stiles couldn’t help his nervous laugh.

“Right, okay. Sure. Makes sense. Where’s uh - where’s-”

“Natasha?” and Stiles nodded, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling beyond uncomfortable now. What was he even supposed to call them?

“Meditating. I’ll grab her.” Barton said immediately, darting out of the room, and when Stiles looked back to Bucky, he was met by a look of understanding.

“Come on in, let’s sit.” and Stiles followed, feeling lost, as Bucky lead him further into the house. When they reached the living room, Bucky took a seat in one of the armchairs, leaving the couch for Stiles, and he sat down quickly, glancing around.

“Sorry for breaking in.” Stiles babbled, “I probably should have called, but then I was in the neighbourhood and well I don’t know I just wanted to I guess, but that’s not an excuse really, and then he almost shot me so really not a good idea, and I think I’ll probably stick to knocking, or at least breaking in through the front door.” he winced, cutting himself off, but Bucky actually laughed.

“It’s fine. You’re welcome here whenever you want. Clint was just being an asshole. He knew who you were.” and that took Stiles by surprise. Then he gave a wary smile.

“So he was just trying to scare me.”

“To be fair, it’s not generally good practice to break into someone’s house when you know they’re home.”

“Unless you’re there to kill them.” and that had Bucky’s eyes sharpening on his face.

“Has someone broken into your house?”

“No. Well, not in a while. And it’s never been someone who wanted to hurt me.” Stiles admitted. Then he realized just what that must sound like. “I haven’t tried to kill anyone either, if that’s what you're thinking. Or well, that’s not true. I have.” he closed his eyes, rubbing his hands over his face. “That’s really not what I want to talk about.” he said instead, chancing a glance at Bucky’s face. The man was watching his with a slight frown, but then he nodded, leaning back in his chair, eyes never leaving Stiles’ face.

“What did you want to talk about?” Relieved that Bucky was going to allow him to change the subject, he launched his first question.

“What am I supposed to call you?” Because he didn’t want to have another awkward moment like the one in the hall.

“What do you want to call us?” Stiles scowled. He had no idea, that’s why he was asking. Bucky obviously understood the expression, because he offered a careful smile. “What I mean is, I know that we aren’t really your grandparents. And I think that would be weird for all of us.” Stiles felt some of the tension slide from his shoulders. He’d felt the same way but had no idea how to say it.

“Yeah, I feel the same way.” and the smile he received now was genuine. That was progress.

“I think the next question is, do you want us around?” Stiles froze, eyes going wide, and the response was met by a laugh, a man’s laugh, from a voice he hadn’t heard yet. He spun towards the door, on his feet, and found himself face to face with Steve Rogers - Captain Freakin America.

“I think what Bucky is trying and failing to say is, he’d really like to stick around, if that’s okay with you.” but Stiles just kept staring, eyes darting from where he stood blocking the doorway, to Bucky and back again. He didn’t realize he’d backed away until both he and Bucky were frowning at him, and he could only be glad that Bucky was still sitting. He’d probably panic if he had them both looming over him.

“Stiles.” his gaze flew to the doorway where Natasha stood directly beside Steve, and she stared right back at him. “You’re safe here.” and he nodded, he did know that, but he didn’t move closer. “Can I come in?” and Stiles’ eyes darted past her, searching for the other person he knew to be in the house. “Clint’s upstairs. He’s not coming down. He’s on the phone. Can I come in?” and he nodded again, because he didn’t mind her coming in. “You’re overwhelmed. That’s okay. Steve can do that to some people.” and Stiles felt the weak smile on his face at her attempt at a joke. She smiled in return, a careful tilt of her lips. “Do you want to leave?” she asked then, and he shook his head, trying to clear his throat so that he could move past non verbal answers.

“No.” he managed, and her smile widened just a fraction, still barely there, but there was a warmth in her eyes now.

“Alright, that’s good. Steve’s going to take a seat in the other armchair. Do you want to sit on the couch with me?” and for the first time since Natasha had made herself known, Stiles looked away from her to watch Steve immediately take a seat in the armchair next to Bucky. As soon as he was seated, Stiles looked back to Natasha, and gave another nod.

“Okay.” he croaked out, and he finally moved, motions jerky at first, before he managed to relax some. He still made sure Natasha was between himself and the others, and sat himself on the edge closest to the door, but he still sat again. Natasha offered a full smile now, full of warmth, sitting on the other end of the couch. When she was seated, he offered a tentative smile back. From across the room, Steve cleared his throat, and Stiles’ gaze jerked to where he was sitting.

“I want to apologize.” Steve said then, and Stiles blinked in surprise. “I should have announced myself sooner, or waited to be introduced. I just wanted the chance to meet you.” and his smile was kind. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Stiles said slowly, glad for the apology but feeling out of sorts. Usually he was the one who had to apologize for his anxiety, not the other way around. It was kind of nice. He let himself relax as best as he could back into the couch.

“So,” Natasha said then, drawing the attention away from Stiles again, “You were asking what you should call us.” and Stiles nodded. “I’m going to assume that since you’re asking, it’s because you want to have a way to address us, because you plan to continue doing so.” and Stiles was relieved once more. Natasha once again understood what he couldn’t put into words. He watched as she actually shot Bucky a look for that, who look chagrined. It made Stiles feel even more comfortable, because this made them people too - people who also made mistakes.

“Yeah,” he finally agreed, realizing that he’d been silent a beat too long. Nobody said a thing about it though.

“I’m glad.” and Stiles actually found himself flushing. “So there are a few options, though you don’t have to choose now.” he nodded, glancing at Steve and Bucky, but it seemed they were also watching Natasha. He wondered briefly if it was a choice she made - to either hide in a room or command it. “I agree with Bucky. We aren’t really your grandparents, and I think it might create some uncomfortable questions in public.” and Stiles found himself reeling. He hadn’t even considered being seen in public. Hadn’t considered that they’d want to be seen in public with him. He looked down at his hands, and missed the look Natasha shot Bucky, the fury that all but beat at the confines of her expression for one moment, because someone had made Stiles feel as if he’d be an embarrassment to be seen with at best, unwanted to be seen with at worst; that much was obvious by his surprise. When Stiles looked back up, Natasha’s expression was smooth once more, but her rage was still obvious in the line of her shoulders.

“You look too young to be grandparents anyways.” Stiles agreed. “So what are the other options? Long lost cousins?” Natasha actually rolled her eyes, and at first Stiles thought it was because she thought it was ridiculous, but then he caught sight of Steve’s wide grin. At his look, Steve explained.

“When they first found out about you, I told them they should introduce themselves as cousins.” Stiles laughed.

“Okay, so no go on the cousins.” he agreed, gratified by Natasha’s amusement.

“I think the two things that would make the most sense are this; we could be your aunt and uncle. We look the right age, and it’s not uncommon to meet your aunts and uncles as an adult. Alternatively, you could just call us by name.” Stiles weighed the options, knowing there was meaning behind either choice. One was inviting them to the family, and the other kept that at a distance.

“So what, like aunt Nat and uncle B?” he joked, though his voice was pitched slightly higher than he would’ve liked. In response, he got a snort of laughter from Steve.

“Notice how everyone makes nicknames of your nickname, Buck?” and Bucky just reached over to shove Steve, hard. He felt a hand on his and looked back to find Natasha watching him with a smile.

“That would be just fine.” and Stiles offered a smile of his own in return.


	18. Beach

It’s not that he hadn’t expected Bucky to come back to the school, but he really hadn’t expected Bucky to come back to the school, so when he walked into history and found him sitting behind the desk, he nearly face planted. It was only Isaac’s quick reflexes that kept him upright, and he immediately marched over to the desk, keeping his voice low so the other students wouldn’t hear.

“What are you doing here?” he hissed, and Bucky lifted a brow.

“Teaching history.” Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Are you actually qualified for that?”

“Considering you’re learning about the second world war and I actually participated first hand, I’d say I have a pretty good perspective.” and Stiles just stared, mouth open wide. Bucky obviously took pity on him cause he shrugged a shoulder. “We’re looking into a replacement. Seemed pretty irresponsible to just leave when I’d made a commitment.” and Stiles shot him a shrewd look.

“I know what you’re doing.”

“Making sure you don’t get anymore weird creeps as teachers.” was the instant reply, and behind the joking exterior, Stiles saw a flash of anger. “We know the track record sucks.” and Stiles couldn’t exactly argue that.

“Okay fine. But no funny business.” Bucky gave an innocent expression, as if to say, who me? and Stiles snorted out a laugh. “Please.”

“We wanted to invite you and your Dad for dinner.” he said then, just as he stood to shoo Stiles to his seat. “Think it over.” and Stiles trailed over to his seat, shocked. Looked like he had dinner plans. He looked at Isaac, Lydia, and Allison who all watched him worriedly, and schooled his expression into something he was sure would look less concerning. As soon as he sat down, Lydia was leaning forward, voice a whisper.

“What happened?”

“He invited Dad and me for dinner.” and when he chanced a glance back at her, her lips were pursed as she regarded their current history teacher.

“Bring a friend.” she advised, and Stiles immediately looked at Isaac. Isaac looked distraught.

“I promised Derek I’d help with stuff at the house after school. But I can try and cancel-”

“Absolutely not. Derek would have a fit. I’ll go.” Lydia decided, and Stiles offered her a smile, even as he reached over to squeeze Isaac’s hand to let him know it was okay he couldn’t come. As soon as he was facing forward again, Stiles fished out his phone, pulling up Natasha’s number listed under _Aunt Nat,_ and it gave him a bit of a thrill to have her number saved as such. He’d yet to use it, but he figured now was as good a time as any. Since he knew his Dad was supposed to be home tonight and would be more than likely okay with this dinner, he stuck to the question at hand.

_To Aunt Nat_

_Dinner sounds good, can I bring a friend?_

The response was near immediate.

_From Aunt Nat_

_Of course. Allergies?_

_To Aunt Nat_

_Nah, Lydia’s only allergic to poor taste in fashion_

_From Aunt Nat_

_Perfect. How’s 7?_

_To Aunt Nat_

_Sounds good_

He knew there wouldn’t be a response past that so he slid his phone away, turning back to give Lydia a thumbs up.

>>>

“Hey! We’re glad you could make it.” Bucky greeted as he opened the door, and Stiles just peered around him, trying to see who else was there. When he didn’t see anyone right away, he sighed, nodding back at his Dad.

“Well you’ve met my Dad, John.” and Bucky nodded, offering his hand.

“Of course. Good to have you.” and John gave a smile that Stiles pretended wasn’t tight.

“And Lydia Martin.”

“Ms. Martin.”

“Lydia’s fine.” she returned politely, and Stiles was glad that at least her smile was genuine.

“Buck, let them in already.” Stiles heard Steve should from further in the house, and Stiles knew he was probably grinning foolishly, but now that he was over his shock it was pretty freaking awesome that he knew Captain America. He looked at Lydia who smiled indulgently back at him, tucking her hand into her arm so he could lead her inside when Bucky stepped back.

“Natasha’s in the kitchen.” he said, and Stiles nodded, leading Lydia there. He felt her arm tighten when John made a soft comment behind them about how Stiles knew where the kitchen was, but they both ignored it.

“Come on, let me introduce you to Steve.” They heard Bucky say behind them, and both of them couldn’t help the slight relief they felt as the two adults split off and left them to go to the kitchen by themselves. As soon as they stepped into the kitchen, Natasha was turning to offer a soft smile, though Stiles felt like she knew everything that had already happened since the door was opened.

“Hi, I’m Lydia.” and the strawberry blonde stepped forward to offer her hand, which Natasha took immediately.

“Nice to meet you. Sulking in the corner is Clint.” and Lydia turned, just to raise an eyebrow at the man in question.

“I see.” and Stiles could all but hear her disdain. He couldn’t help but grin at her when she turned her back on Clint, knowing the cold reaction was because the archer had pretended to threaten him.

“What’s for dinner?”

“Spaghetti. Nice and easy.” Natasha said, and it was almost like a promise. Stiles nodded, glancing nervously towards the kitchen door, and the moment he did so, Lydia was back by his side.

“Come on. Introduce me to Captain America. Scott’s going to be extremely jealous that I met him first.” and Stiles nodded, swallowing. His Dad hadn’t been handling this long lost relative thing well - Stiles was pretty sure he’d seen a bottle of _something_ when he’d taken the trash out, and now he wished he’d taken a better look because it was making him beyond nervous.

“They’re in the living room.” Natasha offered, so Stiles lead the way. He found them exactly where Natasha had said they would be, and though everyone was smiling, there was no missing the tension in the room.

“Hey! Sorry to interrupt, but this is Lydia, one of my best friends in the whole world, and you see, my other best friend, Scott, he’s a huge Captain America fan and he’s going to be just - super jealous that Lydia’s met you so we were thinking we should send him a photo if you’re okay with that sort of thing. I know it’s your time off and all that, but hey, that’s the life of a super hero right?” Stiles babbled, and noticed how his Dad seemed to relax in the face of his usual banter.

“Of course. It’s not a problem.” and Lydia immediately stepped forward, offering her hand and a smile.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine.” Steve returned, guiding her forward by the hand. She turned when she was at his side and Stiles already had his phone out, snapping the picture as soon as they were ready. He couldn’t help but cackle as he immediately sent it to Scott.

“And sent.” he put his phone away and offered his brightest grin. “Who’s hungry? Cause I’m starving. I haven’t had pasta in like a whole week!” and he was pretty sure he could keep this up, especially if it would help his Dad be more comfortable.

>>>

“We’ve been trying to convince Stiles that we should go on a post grad trip since September.” Lydia announced when Steve asked if they’d done any travelling. “I’ve been trying to convince everyone we should go somewhere with a beach. What better way to celebrate the end of school than to take a vacation where you have no responsibilities?”

“Beaches are boring.” Stiles shot right back. “I want to go somewhere where we can actually do stuff.” Lydia rolled her eyes.

“Beaches are only boring if you’re with the wrong people.”

“If you wanted to go somewhere with a beach, we know a guy.” and that had everyone turning to look at Clint who’d stayed fairly quiet the whole meal. At everyone’s attention, he shrugged. “Well we do. And he’s got a great beach house. Private beach and everything. Just say the word, kid.” and Stiles didn’t know quite how to take that.

“Thanks, but we wouldn’t want to put anyone out.” was John’s response, and Stiles looked at his Dad, who’s expression had closed off again, and gave a slow nod.

“Right. Exactly. Plus like I was saying. Beaches are the worst! It’s already hot enough here. Why would I want to go somewhere warmer? What would I do without all my plaid?”

“Your plaid is offensive, Stiles.” Lydia cut in, coming right to his rescue, and he reached under the table to give her hand a squeeze. He really was glad he’d brought her along.


	19. Lost

Natasha sat in the living room, curled up on the corner of the couch, staring in the direction of the window but not looking past it. That’s where Clint found her and he dropped onto the floor beside her, tilting his head back so it was pressed against her hip. He didn’t say anything at first, just sitting with her, and she was grateful that he wasn’t trying to push her. In thanks, she reached down, combing a hand through his hair, gaining the expected contented hum in response.

“John isn’t happy we’re here.” she murmured, not looking away from the window. They’d been so focused on meeting their grandson; on getting to be apart of his life, they hadn’t put much thought into how his father would feel about it; and that had been their lapse.

“Beacon Hills Sheriff doesn’t seem happy with much.” was Clint response, and Natasha couldn’t really argue that. Every interaction they’d had with him, he just seemed fed up with everything around him; bone weary. None of them had missed how Stiles had put in all that effort in order to make sure everyone got along at the dinner, and it had been hard to watch. It was an obvious strain on him, to balance his father’s mood like that, and it had seemed his friend Lydia had been equally as unimpressed by the Sheriff’s behaviour, though she’d carried the conversation with skill and grace when Stiles had needed a break. It was understandable now, why his friends were so protective of him; because he spent all his time being protective of everyone else, including his father, despite the fact that it should have been the other way around.

“We can’t force Stiles to choose us if his father is against it.”

“I have a feeling nobody can force Stiles to do anything he doesn’t want to do, especially the Sheriff.” and that finally had Natasha looking away from the window to glance down at Clint.

“Why do you say that?” Clint didn’t answer right away, and when he did it was with a huff.

“Look, I might have talked to some of the wolves on my own.” and Natasha didn’t know whether to laugh or hit him. Instead, she just glared. He didn’t wait long to continue. “Basically, the Sheriff didn’t find out about the whole supernatural thing for like, 2-3 years. Even then, apparently it was a rough transition. He’s a stand up guy, apparently, but he doesn’t adjust well, but end of the day, apparently he always comes round if it’s for Stiles.” Natasha nodded, taking that into consideration. It didn’t much help how she felt, though it did ease some of the growing concerns she’d had regarding how John Stilinski treated his son.

“Now, what’s really on your mind?” She couldn’t help but be glad that she’d chosen to let someone close enough to know she had more on her mind. He turned to face her, propping his hands on his fists on the edge of the couch.

“Where do we belong in his life, Clint?” the words were barely a whisper. “We can’t stay in Beacon Hills forever. We’ve already been here longer than we should have been. There are going to be missions that the rest of you can’t take for us.” and she met his blue eyed gaze evenly. “What happens when we have to go deep undercover for months at a time and can’t be reached? We’re asking him to accept us into his life, but we can’t even be there when he might need us most.”

“There are always going to be what if’s, Tasha.” Clint cut in. “I have a feeling he’s feeling just as lost in all of this as you are. All you can do is be honest with him, cause I guarantee you that if you even think of backing out now he’ll know and he’ll think it’s his fault. That kid’s a pile of insecurities - he’s a teenager.”

“I don’t want to back out.” Natasha shot back, and Clint grinned.

“Oh I know.” now she did hit him over the back of the head. He didn’t lose his cheerful expression. “You spoken to Bucky about this?”

“Not yet. I know he’s been worried about the same thing.” the unspoken fact that she didn’t want to impose her worries on him went unsaid.

“I have it on good authority that Steve went to talk to him about this very same thing.” Natasha shot him a shrewd look.

“When do you report back with your missions status?”

“Dinner prep.” Clint admitted without a hint of shame. Then he lifted himself off the ground, launching himself onto the other end of the couch. “Wanna watch reruns of Dog Cops?” he asked, but the remote was already in his hand. Natasha just shoved at him with her foot before settling them both in his lap. His free hand wrapped itself loosely around one ankle, and for the first time in days, she relaxed.


	20. Cry

When Stiles walked in his front door, he just knew something was wrong. The TV was just that little bit too loud, and it smelled just a little bit off.

“Dad?” he called out, moving slowly into the house. He pulled his cellphone out, ready to call for help, but then he stepped into the doorway of the living room and found his Dad passed out on the couch. There was a bottle of whiskey on the coffee table, all but empty, and a box of photos on the floor next to him. Stiles didn’t have to look inside to know they were pictures with his mother in them. For a moment, the rush of anger was so powerful that Stiles wanted to just lash out at everything until it drained out of him, but instead he went and grabbed the bottle, taking it to the sink to rinse out and toss in the recycling. He braced himself on the kitchen counter, wondering just how much he was willing to get into this, but then his resolve hardened. He was tired of this; tired of tip toeing around the subject, of not being able to talk about his mom. He’d been grieving for her before she even died, and now that he finally had a tie to where she came from, he didn’t want to feel this gaping hole of grief in his chest any longer. He deserved closure, and so did his Dad, and it was about time they started dealing with it. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Stiles pulled out his phone, texting Isaac what he was about to do. He slid the phone away, not bothering to check the answer. He knew if something happened Isaac would be there in seconds. Dropping his bag next to the dinner table, Stiles moved back to the living room, grabbing the remote and shutting the TV off. His Dad startled with the sudden silence, blinking his eyes open slowly to stare up at Stiles, frown on his face.

“Stiles?”

“Yeah, Dad. It’s me. We need to talk.” his Dad pushed himself into a sitting position, rubbing a hand over his face.

“What do we need to talk about, son?”

“About this.” and he pointed at the box of photos. “About Mom.” and he watched his Dad’s expression shutter.

“Stiles-” his Dad began, putting up a hand, but Stiles stood firm, giving a shake of his head, hands clenched in fists.

“No, Dad, this is _important_. I miss her too.” Stiles snapped, and it had his Dad’s head shooting up. “I miss the pictures on the walls. I miss the cakes she used to bake. I miss going to the park and being a family.” and there was no fighting his tears. “Most of all, I miss being able to miss her. When did it become more important to forget her than to remember her?” he demanded, allowing all his anger to pour out now. “When did it become more important to grieve the fact that she was gone than to remember and love what we had?” Stiles ran both his hands through his hair, trying to calm himself, but only feeling more riled up.

“Dad, these people? They might not have been the people who raised her, but they were the people she came from, and I don’t want to lose out on getting to know them. I won’t lose that. It doesn’t have to be just you and me anymore. It shouldn’t be. We can actually have a _family_ , Dad. Outside of you and me and the pack. Family that was hers as much as it’s ours. Why don’t you want that?” his Dad stood up so abruptly that Stiles couldn’t help but take a step back, and they both froze at the reaction. There was no missing the pain in his Dad’s eyes, or the tears, but he moved forward slowly now, until he was right in front of Stiles. Then he grabbed him in a tight bear hug. Stiles sagged into his Dad, hugging him just as tightly.

“I’m so sorry, son.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry.” Stiles replied, “I want you to change it.” and his Dad pulled back slowly, shaking his head.

“I don’t know how.” Stiles stared at his Dad, at the man he loved more than absolutely anyone in the world, and he stepped out of reach.

“Than I have to leave.”

“Stiles, come on,” but Stiles shook his head, taking another step back.

“I can’t live like this, Dad. I need to move on. And so do you.” He went into the kitchen, grabbing his backpack, he could come back for clothes later. Then he headed for the door, standing in the open doorway and knowing everything was about to change. “You’ll know where to find me.” but even as he said it, he wasn’t sure where to go. He didn’t falter though, didn’t look back, just got in his jeep and started to drive. He glanced back only once, and saw the front door still closed behind him, and held back only until he’d driven to the edge of the woods before he pulled over, leaning his head against the steering wheel to let out a sob. He didn’t need anyone in town seeing him like this and reporting it back. He leaned back in his seat, pulling at his hair, and he let himself shout, let his anger take control for a moment, even as he cried. He lashed out, hitting the wheel, and then did it again. He got out of the car, slamming the door closed, and without even thinking he spun and lashed out, fist slamming into a tree. He didn’t feel the pain, so he hit it again. and again.

He didn’t know what alerted him that someone was there, but he spun, fist leading the way, and found his wrist caught in a decidedly metal hand. He blinked at the sight, trying to see through his tears, but he couldn’t.

“What are you doing out here?” and his voice was raw. Like he’d been screaming. Had he been screaming?

Rather than answer, Bucky just drew him closer, examining the hand in his grasp. Stiles still couldn’t really see it so he rubbed at his eyes furiously with his other hand, smearing the wet around. It was stickier than it should have been, he realized, and when he looked back at his hand, he realized it was bloody.

“Shit.” and that’s when the tears started full force again. “Shit.” Bucky still hadn’t said anything so he just glared at him, hard as he could. “What, not what you expected to find?” he bit out. “Well life isn’t perfect, and you know what, you guys coming here screwed a lot of things up for me.”

“Let’s get you home, Stiles.” was what he finally said, and Stiles scoffed. He didn’t even realize that Bucky still had his wrist caught in his hand.

“I can’t go home.” he shouted. “Don’t you understand? I can’t. I left. I can’t go back until he asks me to. I won’t. I won’t.” and then he was being hugged even as his shoulders shook with further sobs. “I can’t go home.” Bucky held him there, on the side of the road, until the sobs had drained out of him, and he could barely stand. Then, he guided him into the passenger seat of the jeep, climbing behind the wheel himself. Stiles was too exhausted to argue, watching through hooded eyes as Bucky drove them back towards town, right up to the front door of where they were currently living.

“You’re staying with us.” Bucky said then, though he didn’t get out of the jeep yet. His jaw flexed, and it seemed like he was angry, but Stiles was too tired to think about why. When Stiles didn’t answer, Bucky looked over, and Stiles had no idea what he was looking for.

“Okay.” he agreed, because he figured that was the best he could do, and Bucky gave a nod, finally getting out of the jeep just to come around and help him out too. Stiles stumbled, hissing out a breath when his hand brushed against the door, and that’s when he realized he’d done more damage than he’d intended to.

“Come on, we’ll get you cleaned up.” and Stiles nodded, leaning heavily into Bucky’s side as he was guided inside. The house was dark, and even as Stiles glanced around he couldn’t see anyone.

“Where’s everyone else?” he asked, though the words slurred a little in his mouth.

“Around. Probably sleeping.” but Stiles knew a lie when he heard one. He was guided to sit at the kitchen table, and seconds later Bucky was back with a first aid kit. “Let’s see ‘em then.” and Stiles presented his hands, wincing now that he could actually see them. They were all cut up and swollen.

“Think they’re broken?” he couldn’t help but ask, and Bucky gave him a sharp look.

“You can’t tell?” Stiles shrugged, glaring pointedly at his hands, and Bucky sighed, reaching out carefully to take one of Stiles’ hands in his. Gently, he checked his hands, and Stiles hissed at the shooting pain that flared when Bucky poked softly at his wrist. “Looks like just a sprain.” then he pulled out the antiseptic. “This is going to hurt.” Stiles nodded, hissing out curses as Bucky cleaned out the cuts on his hands. When he was done, he wrapped Stiles’ wrist, then covered the cuts in bandages.

“Come on. You need to get some sleep.” and he lead Stiles upstairs, bringing him to the third door on the left.

“Isaac. Gotta call Isaac.” Stiles said before he would go in the room. “I - I need him.” Bucky stared a moment, and then nodded.

“I’ll get him.” Stiles nodded, finally going into the room, and he blinked at the set of pyjamas neatly folded on top of the covers of the bed. He glanced back at Bucky, but the man was already gone, so Stiles closed the door before changing out of his clothes, relieved at how soft the cotton pyjamas were on his skin. He climbed under the covers, curling up in a ball, fighting back a fresh wave of tears.

>>>

Bucky didn’t have to go far to find the blonde wolf in question. He went right downstairs and opened the back door, and Isaac all but slipped out of the shadows. Bucky nodded him in, not bothering to wonder how he’d known what was going on, and guided him upstairs. He hung back as Isaac went in the room, though he heard Stiles’ relieved voice before the door closed behind the blonde. The moment the door was closed, he leaned back against the wall, rubbing a hand through his hair.

“What happened?” Natasha asked, right at his elbow, and Bucky didn’t have to look up to know both Clint and Steve were present as well.

“He confronted his Dad. Didn’t go so well. He left. Went and took it all out on a couple of trees.” Bucky didn’t mention that he’d had to fight not to go into the Stilinski house hold and confront the man himself - that that was the reason he hadn’t found Stiles until he’d already made a mess of his hands. Natasha put a hand on his arm in comfort but also understanding.

“Rest. I’ll check on him later.” and he nodded, stepping past her to move towards his own room where Steve waited in the doorway, pulling him into a tight hug before pulling him behind the closed door.

Natasha stared at the door behind which Stiles and now Isaac were before turning to Clint. Clint nodded, moving towards the stairs and grabbing his bow case from where it had been propped in his own bedroom doorway.

“I’m on it.” and he disappeared down the stairs.

Natasha waited until she heard the front door close behind him to move towards the bedroom door, opening it without a sound. The bright, liquid gold eyes were the first thing she saw, staring back at her, and she offered a nod, glancing down to see Stiles was curled up around where Isaac had propped himself up to keep watch. Assured then that at least Stiles was able to sleep, she offered Isaac one more nod before closing the door once more.

Natasha woke to the sound of a door opening and shot up in bed, gun in hand. She found Clint facing her hands up and easy smile on his face.

“Just me.” she lowered the gun, pushing her hair back from her face as she tried to calm herself. “Sheriff’s still at the house. Looked to me like he was dumping a lot of stuff down the sink.” and though that was a good sign, and they knew it meant it would repair the relationship between father and son, they both felt it was too late. Natasha didn’t say anything, just curled back up under the covers, and when Clint joined her, she pressed into his heat, allowing herself the comfort before she slipped back into sleep.


	21. Distant

“Good morning, Stiles.” Stiles spun around, glad he wasn’t holding anything or else he was pretty sure he would have dropped it. He’d been staying with them for a couple of days now, and still, Natasha startled him almost every time she greeted him.

“Morning.” he turned back to the sink, washing out the cup he’d used for coffee.

“Have you eaten breakfast yet?” she asked, and he shook his head, not looking up.

“I was waiting for Isaac to get up.”

“He’s in the shower. Did you want me to make something?” Stiles huffed out a breath, finally turning.

“You know, you don’t have to do this.” she looked right back, expression unreadable.

“Do what, Stiles?”

“All this. Make me breakfast.” he flushed, feeling embarrassed, but he kept on. “I’m not going to like you any less if I have to make my own food.” Natasha just stared back a moment before giving a sigh of her own.

“I’m making you uncomfortable.” and now Stiles felt like an ass.

“A little.” he shrugged. “But it’s not that, really.” and now that he was fairly certain he’d hurt her feelings, he felt honesty was key. “You scare me a little.” he threw up his hands in instant apology. “Not like I’m scared you’re going to do anything! Just like - intimidating. You’re this like, crazy awesome super spy, and I can’t always tell what you’re thinking. And sometimes you act like that - distant. And then you turn around and you want to make me breakfast. I guess it feels a bit weird. I guess what I’m saying is, I just want everyone to be themselves, so that I can be myself.” he shrugged again, realizing that he was looking everywhere but at her, but when he looked up, meeting her gaze, Natasha was actually smiling.

“You’re right.” and he blinked. That certainly wasn’t the response he’d expected.

“I am?” her smile actually widened.

“It’s hard for me, to know how to treat you.” she admitted, “The goal wasn’t to make you uncomfortable.” she moved towards the fridge. “But on that note, I really am making breakfast. Clint wants pancakes.”

“I like pancakes.” Stiles agreed, and she nodded, gathering the ingredients. Stiles decided more coffee was in order and started a new pot.

When everything was underway and the first pancake started to sizzle in the pan, Natasha looked back at Stiles.

“In an effort to be fully transparent; how are things with your father?” she continued before he could answer, shooting him a look for silence before he could think to cut in. “You’re welcome here as long as you’d like, you’re welcome anywhere we are.” she told him firmly. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright.” Stiles didn’t answer right away, listening to the coffee dripping into the pot and the butter sizzling in the pan. His initial reaction was to think he’d overstayed his welcome, but she’d shut that down before he could even really think it. The second thought had been that she was prying, or just trying to be polite, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized she actually cared. Not that he’d thought she didn’t - but he was starting to get to know these people - to see how they interacted with each other and learn how that translated to how they treated him. Natasha was asking because she would fix it if she could, she was asking because she genuinely wanted him to be happy, and the distance he’d felt was just who she was when she was unsure or uncomfortable. He could understand that.

“I haven’t heard from him directly.” he admitted, and though it stung, he was almost glad for it, glad he was having this chance to get to know these people. “I know he’s doing better though. Everyone’s been keeping an eye on him.” he offered a wry smile. “Derek saw Clint there, the first night. Told me when he was telling me that Dad dumped all the booze in the house.” he shrugged, pouring himself a cup of coffee, and then a second cup when he offered and Natasha nodded. “Parrish says he’s been focusing on work more, but that’s how my Dad copes. Peter’s been taking him lunches, making sure he still eats healthy, and Dad’s been asking about me, so Peter told him the truth. That this is where I am, that I’m okay.” his smile was wry. “Dad wasn’t thrilled, but apparently he wasn’t surprised either. Scott said he stopped by the house with his Mom, Melissa made dinner, tidied a bit, but apparently Dad actually did a bunch of cleaning. There were new picture frames in the living room, though they didn’t have pictures yet.”

“Do you think he’s doing what you asked him to because you asked or because he wants to?” she asked, and Stiles huffed out a laugh.

“You only ask the hard questions don’t you?” but he made sure she saw his smile so she would know he didn’t mind. “I think it’s a bit of both. I think he’s doing specific things because I asked, but I think the general is because he knows he’s wrong, and wants to fix himself. My Dad’s good like that. He may take some time to come around, but he always does in the end. He _wants_ to be good, and I think that goes a long way.” Natasha could understand that sentiment.

“I’m glad.” then she turned to him, expression serious. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.” Stiles’ fingers tightened on his coffee cup, nervous.

“Okay?”

“We have to go back to New York.” she admitted, and it took everything in him not to recoil from the words. They were leaving him? “We’ve been away for a long time, and they need us back. While I know this is very early and also a difficult time considering things with your father, we wanted to invite you to come with us.” Stiles was pretty sure he was gaping, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Me? To come to New York?” and she nodded.

“To the Tower. Where we live. You could continue to stay with us, just not in Beacon Hills.”

“For how long?”

“We don’t know how long we have to be back for, but you could stay as long or as short a time as you want. Or you could visit often.” Stiles lowered himself into a kitchen chair, fairly certain he was going into shock.

“Avengers Tower. You want me to come to Avengers Tower. Where Tony Stark lives. That tower.” and now Natasha smirked at him.

“Yes.” and he let out a near hysterical laugh.

“When do you leave?”

“Clint and Steve leave tomorrow. Bucky and I leave in two weeks.” and Stiles was pretty sure he was crazy, but at this point he didn’t think anyone minded. With another laugh, he nodded.

“Why not?”


	22. Giggle

Stiles was pretty sure he hadn’t slept in three days. He’d been back at home for just over week now, his Dad having shown up a few days after he’d agreed to go to New York with an apology not only for him but for Natasha and Bucky. And so he was back at home, living in the house he’d _actually_ grown up with, with family pictures on the wall, his mom’s cookbook back on its shelf next to the stove, and a heart to heart with his Dad on everything they were going to do together in order to make sure nothing like that ever happened again.

He’d told his Dad then that he’d agreed to visit New York, and Avengers Tower, and his Dad had not only understood, he’d been excited for him. That had sealed it for Stiles. He knew his Dad had really thought this all through, and come out happy. He hoped next time Natasha and Bucky (and even Steve and Clint) came to town maybe they’d be able to stay with them instead of staying somewhere else. That they would all be able to actually make a go at this family thing all together.

“Stiles, what are you doing on the floor?” Stiles tilted his head back to see Isaac staring down at him, smile crinkling his features. Stiles grinned back.

“Packing.” Isaac let out a laugh, looking around the room before looking back at Stiles.

“I can see that.” then he crouched down, still smiling. “You leave tomorrow, Stiles.” and Stiles closed his eyes, letting out a whine.

“I know,” and he drew out the ‘o’. “But I don’t know what to bring?” he let out a little giggle that he’d never admit to having done in a million years. “Is this what it’s like to know famous people? To be so nervous I can’t even pack a bag?”

“Well being on the floor probably doesn’t help.” Stiles opened his eyes briefly to give Isaac a look of betrayal before covering his face once more.

“I’m going to be meeting Tony Stark. Tony Stark and Pepper Potts. Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, and Bruce Banner. Tony-”

“Okay, okay, I get it. But do you really think they’d take you if they didn’t think you could handle it? They probably have their own apartments scattered around the city, they could have taken you to any one of them, but instead they’re bringing you somewhere they consider home.”

Stiles opened his eyes to look back at Isaac who was watching him with such a fond look Stiles wanted to kiss him. Stiles reached up, making grabby hands, and Isaac rolled his eyes but obliged him, pulling him to his feet. Stiles immediately pressed a quick, chaste kiss to Isaac’s lips.

“You’re right.” Isaac nuzzled against his temple in response.

“Come on, I’ll help you pack.” and Stiles beamed.

It turned out, when Isaac had said he’d help him pack, he’d not only packed his suitcase but also helped clean the room, putting everything back where it belonged before bundling Stiles up into the bed and turning on a movie, cuddling up behind him. Stiles found himself feeling more content than he had in ages. He turned his head to catch Isaac’s gaze, and as soon as Isaac looked back at him, blue eyes fond, he couldn’t help himself.

“I love you.” the smile that filled Isaac’s features was probably the most beautiful thing Stiles had ever seen in his whole life, and the kiss he received was probably the sweetest.

“I love you too.” and Stiles felt the burst of pleasure fill his chest, turning to cuddle back in, feeling Isaac’s arm tighten around him. For now, he was fairly comfortable in believing that everything would actually turn out okay.


	23. Tower

Stiles had never been to New York before so he didn’t feel the slightest bit of shame gawking out the windows of the car driving them back to the Tower. The car that Tony Stark had sent for them.

“What do you want to see first?” Bucky asked, and Stiles shook his head, trying to look in every direction at once.

“I have no idea.” Stiles admitted, and he was giddy with the thought. Bucky actually laughed.

“Well, we can start with the museums.” Bucky decided, looking at Natasha for confirmation, who nodded.

“I’ve also been told there are a few shows playing this week that are well recommended. If you were interested in the theatre.”

“I’ve never seen a show live before.” Stiles admitted enthusiastically. “And I love museums.”

“Great. Steve said he ordered pizza and that it should be there when we arrive.”

“Awesome.” and that’s when Stiles’ nerves started to show themselves.

“You’re sure they don’t mind me staying? Some weird kid they’ve never met?” Natasha reached out to pat his hand in comfort.

“If being weird is what you’re worried about, don’t be. There are no weirder than the residents of the tower.”

“But-”

“Relax, kid. You’re going to be fine.” Stiles sat back, taking a deep breath.

“Right. Okay. Are him and Clint going to be there?” Because he knew they both liked him, and that was almost the whole team.

“They’re waiting for us at the Tower.” Natasha assured, and Stiles nodded again. He could do this. He _would_ do this.

>>>

“You must be Stiles.” and he didn’t think he’d ever been as tongue tied in his life then when Pepper Potts came towards him with a friendly smile, offering her hand. He accepted it, still staring in awe, and her smile actually warmed, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’ve heard so much about you. Tony’s actually very excited to meet you.” and Stiles felt the heat rising in his face.

“Why?” Pepper laughed. It was like bells. He wondered if he would always be doomed to worship strawberry blondes.

“He’s excited to have someone around who’s the same age he acts.” that startled a laugh out of him.

“Now, this is the communal floor,” she said, guiding him forward, “And you’re welcome here anytime. You’re staying on Natasha’s floor while you’re here.” and this was the first he’d heard of it, but he just nodded. “That’s two below this. Between that and us is Bucky and Steve’s floor. They’ve given you free access as well. Above this is where Tony and I live.” Stiles nodded again, trying to absorb everything she was telling him.

“Do I need like, an access pass or something?” and Pepper shook her head, patting his hand.

“Not at all. That’s what Jarvis is for. Jarvis?”

“Correct, Miss Potts. I will be able to guide you anywhere you need to go, Mr. Stilinski.” Stiles startled, looking around. So this was the infamous AI.

“Uh, thanks.” he managed, glancing back at both Bucky and Natasha who were following where Pepper lead him, further into the common space. Stiles couldn’t help his relief at seeing Steve in the kitchen. He turned just as they came in, smiling wildly.

“Jarvis said you were here.” he said, drying his hands on a dish towel. “I hope you’re hungry. We ordered a few extra pizzas. We weren’t sure what you would feel like.”

“I eat pretty much anything.” Stiles admitted easily, “I’m just happy to be here.” Steve came forward then, clapping a hand to his shoulder.

“We’re glad to have you. Pepper’s giving you the tour?”

“Sort of, yeah. I, uh, met Jarvis.” Steve’s look was commiserating.

“I found that very overwhelming when I got here at first.” Steve admitted, and Stiles blinked up at him.

“Really?”

“Absolutely. Took some time to get used to. but it was worth it.” and Stiles could understand that sentiment.

“Anything else I should know about?” Stiles asked, only half kidding.

“Well, just be prepared that Tony can be - overwhelming at first. But he means well.” Steve lead him back towards the main area, where there was seating.

“Talking about me behind my back, Cap?” And Stiles froze in place, almost afraid to turn around. “That’s not very patriotic.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“Tony, meet Stiles.” and Tony Stark moved through the room like he owned it, which Stiles supposed he did, and came to stand in front of him.

“Oh hey, look, the littlest assassin is here.” was how he was addressed, and Stiles found himself staring at a man who for all intents and purposes was one of the most powerful people in the world.

“I’m not an assassin.” he blurted in reply, and the man in question observed him carefully.

“No, you’re not. You’re something else altogether. Jarvis got some pretty interesting readings off of you, actually. Weird energy levels.” Stiles felt himself retreat a step. He was glad, all of a sudden, that his back was to the elevator.

“I - I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Stiles stuttered, and the man regarding him raised a brow.

“No? Let me clear it up for you.”

“Stark.” it was Bucky who growled out his name, stepping forward. “Leave him alone.”

“Aren’t you curious about why he’s got magic level energy readings?” The man in question shot back, and it was Pepper now who stepped forward.

“Tony, now’s not the time.” and her voice left no room for argument.

“But Pepper! Magic!” he all but whined, and Stiles was already at the elevator. Natasha turned just as Stiles stepped inside, wild eyed and scared, and even as she tried to step forward to stop him, the doors were sliding closed.

“Stiles, wait!” and even as she called out, he was gone. Bucky turned on Tony, who just looked confused.

“What did I do wrong?” Tony asked, and Bucky all but snarled at him, only not launching forward because Steve stepped in the way, grabbing hold of him.

“Maybe bombarding him with questions about something he obviously keeps hidden wasn’t the best way to introduce yourself.” Pepper scolded, but Tony was just staring at the elevator.

“But I thought it was cool.” her expression softened and she reached out to pat his cheek.

“Maybe next time just say so. Right now, maybe you can track his cellphone to make sure he’s safe.” and Tony nodded, grabbing a tablet.

“Yeah, of course.” then he looked at Natasha who was striding towards the elevator. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to chase him off.”

“I’ll forgive you when he does.” and Tony winced, but couldn’t argue her logic.


	24. Taxi

Stiles hit the streets of New York and felt immediately overwhelmed. He shouldn’t have bolted, he knew that, but by the time he’d realized that, he’d already walked far enough away that he didn’t know the way back. He fumbled for his phone, dropping it when someone bumped into him from behind. He quickly moved to grab it, but he was shoved again, only just managing to grab his phone and get upright before being bumped once more. He moved towards the closest building, pressing his back to it to give himself some space, watching the crowds move by. He took a deep breath, lifting his phone again, and managed to dial it this time.

“Stiles - are you okay?” and that was Natasha’s voice.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m sorry I ran.”

“It’s okay, where are you now? I’m coming to get you.”

“Um, I’m not sure, hold on.” and he moved towards the street corner so he could squint up at the street signs.

“Hey, kid, need a ride?” and Stiles turned to see a taxi driver leaning across his passenger seat to look at him.

“Me?” Stiles couldn’t help but ask, and the driver nodded, pointing to his back seat.

“Yeah, you. Need a ride?”

“Stiles, who’s that?” Natasha asked, but Stiles was shaking his head at the driver.

“No, I’m okay. Thanks though.” Stiles replied, backing away, but even as he did, he walked right into someone.

“Get the door.” and a third man opened the door even as Stiles wheeled around, trying to run away.

“Aunt Nat, help!” he cried out, even as the phone was plucked from his grasp and he was shoved in the taxi.

Natasha was running the moment she heard Stiles talking to someone who wasn’t her, trusting her own sense of danger to know something was going wrong. When he cried out for her, she was all but sprinting, running in the direction Jarvis had given her. She heard the level breathing over the line and her hand tensed around the phone.

“If you hurt even a hair on his head-”

“Are you afraid, little spider?” and the Russian accent was unmistakeable. She rounded the corner just in time to see a man standing at the corner, and when he met her gaze she knew it was him. She could see Stiles’ head in the back window, see him struggling, and kept running. “We knew there was someone important to you, but we had no idea just how important.” the man smirked, and the expression was cruel. Then he slid into the taxi and she could only watch as it drove away, unable to risk shooting and risk hurting Stiles. “He has your chin, да?”


	25. Search

Natasha raced through the streets on the motorcycle she’d appropriated from a civilian, trailing the cab as Jarvis fed her its route.

“Ms. Romanov, it is advised that you wait for back up. It is likely that your adversaries are aware that you are following alone.”

“It’s more than just likely.” Natasha replied. “But I can’t wait. That puts Stiles at too much risk. This is the second time he’s been taken because of us. If he gets hurt, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“Understood. The others have been notified.”

“Good. And Jarvis?”

“Yes, Ms. Romanov?”

“I want a list compiled. Everyone who could even have an idea that Stiles exists. I want a copy, I want Bucky to have a copy, and I want Coulson to get one on his desk. We are going to make sure everyone knows that if anyone goes after him again, there will be hell to pay. This won’t happen again. Not because of us.”

“Right away, Ms. Romanov.”

Natasha ditched the bike a quarter mile from where Jarvis said the cab had stopped, pulling it off the road and hiding it in the trees. There, she checked over the weapons she had on her. Less than satisfied, she resigned herself to having to steal a gun when she got closer since she only had the one and its single clip. Mind, she had her knives, and her garrotting wire, but she didn’t like to have to rely on any single method of violence. Inventory finished, she made the rest of the trip on foot. She found 3 cameras and 4 bear traps, and while she disconnected the traps, she stayed off the cameras all together - not even so much as disconnecting them. She wanted to get as much of a surprise entrance as she could, because even she knew it would be a blood bath.Careful now, because the closer she got the more likely she was to be seen, she crept through the trees, looking for any sign of a building. She found one exactly where Jarvis had said the taxi would be, and saw it parked outside. Problem was, this wasn’t like the last time Stiles had been taken, with only a small team watching him. Even from here Natasha could tell that this was a fully functioning base of operations.

“Jarvis, do you have any eyes on the building?”

“Not yet, Ms. Romanov. It would appear that they’ve managed to create a blindspot.” At this point, Natasha couldn’t even be surprised.

“ETA on the others?”

“The Iron Man suit is closest with an estimated time of arrival of 6 minutes.”

“Perfect. I’ll lay down the welcome mat.” Reaching down, she drew one of the knives from each of her boots, and started forward.

>>>

“Where’s the boy?” she demanded, leaping over her last victim to reach the next. There was a cut along her forehead, almost in her hairline, where a bullet had grazed, and she could feel the blood dripping closer and closer to her eye. She needed to buy herself a second to wipe it away, but she didn’t have a second. Not yet. She hooked an arm around one of the men’s necks, using it to anchor her as she swung past to slam her feet into another’s chest. Then she swung back round, arm still on his throat and drove the knife through his shoulder from the front. He screamed, but she just held on.

“Where is he!” More shots came down the hall, forcing her back, so she slit the man’s throat. He would be no use to her, and she wasn’t leaving anyone alive who stood between her and Stiles.

>>>

Stiles came to feeling like his head was full of cotton, but also pounding like a drum. He groaned, trying to move, and immediately realized he was restrained. His eyes flew open, ignoring the pain, because now he was scared - terrified even. He was strapped to a table, and he’d watched enough movies to know what that meant. He was alone in the room, which was the only upside, but who’s to say they hadn’t done anything to him yet? He tried to glance down at himself, and as far as he could see, everything looked fine, and nothing really hurt more than he expected it to, but that didn’t change the fact that he’d once again been kidnapped. This time it seemed like they wanted a little more than a chat.

He heard the commotion in the halls, heard people running past and shouting, but he didn’t call out, too afraid that the wrong people would come in. Focusing now, he wiggled his wrists, trying to see how much space he had. It didn’t take him long to realize he wasn’t going to be able to squeeze himself out. And God he was so tired of this; so tired of being the weak human, so tired of being the one people grabbed - the one people hurt. It was always to get at other people - people he cared about - and always because he was the weak link. He was tired of being the weak link.

The burst of anger left him in an almost physical wave, and the shackles around his wrists and ankles all but exploded, the lights flickering above him. He slid off the table and immediately had to grab onto it for support to keep himself up, his legs like jelly under him. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stand, because hell if he’d let this get the best of him. He pushed to his feet and took the first wobbly step as the door opened, letting in a man in a lab coat in, syringe in hand. They both froze at the sight of the other before the lab coat rushed forward, syringe branded. Stiles reeled back, tripping over his own feet to land on the ground. The man followed, grabbing hold of his arm and yanking him up, half off the ground, trying to jab the needle into his arm. Stiles jerked away, not wanting to be injected with whatever was in the syringe, and that’s when the explosion rocked the building. They both stumbled, and the motion worked in the man’s favour, because the needle jabbed itself into Stiles’ arm. He cried out, shoving the doctor away, yanking the needle out of his arm and throwing it across the room, but even he’d noticed that some of its contents were missing. The man came forward, coming at him again, but Stiles bolted, heading for the door. Another explosion rocked the building even as the man tackled him to the ground, and for a moment Stiles’ vision went black as his head hit the floor. Then he was trying to push the man off, and that’s when he noticed the damn needle back in his hand.

“You know that’s not very sterile, right?” he grunted, even as he tried to fight the man off, but the room was starting to spin, and he was starting to forget which way was up. The needle jabbed back into his arm and this time he couldn’t do anything but protest feebly, whatever had been in the syringe working its magic. “Get. Off. Me.” Stiles demanded, though his body couldn’t cooperate anymore. So he didn’t understand why the man went flying, nor did he understand why he didn’t come back. He stared up at the ceiling, feeling completely out of sorts, and wondering if he would be able to reach the door. The explosions definitely meant that back up was here, and definitely in the form of his favourite Avengers, but how would they know where he was if he didn’t help? He managed to roll over, dragging himself to the door, and then pulling himself up using the handle. He didn’t remember getting the door open, but then he was in the hall, and the hall was empty. Stiles thought that was pretty weird given all the shouting and screaming from earlier, but he wasn’t going to argue with good luck. He stumbled against the wall, trying to take slow, deep breaths, but his body didn’t seem to be cooperating, because he was getting light headed. A shape flew towards him and he went to stumble back only to slump into the wall, and then he found himself facing the Iron Man suit.

“I found the kid.” came the voice, even as the face plate lifted to reveal Tony Stark. “You scare too easy, you know that?” he said then, coming forward and gently pulling him in, lifting him into his arms. Stiles was sure he wouldn’t be the first to note that it was actually extremely uncomfortable being carried by a metal suit. “I was just trying to tell you how cool I thought your magic was.” he continued, and Stiles let his head roll back against the suit’s shoulder so he could see Tony’s face.

“Really?”

“Sure, kid. After all, you’re the first, non-evil, non-asshole I’ve met with powers. Think of the experiments we could do!”

“Most people think imma loser.” he slurred, and Tony scoffed.

“Most people have the IQ of a gold fish.” that had Stiles giggling.

“Mr. lab coat injected me with a thing.” Stiles admitted then. “I think I’m high.”

“You’re certainly something.” but that was concern. “We’ll get you back to medical. I’ve got the best the world has to offer. Maybe this time you’ll stick around for a chat, what do you think?”

“I could tell you about werewolves if you tell me about cool science stuff.” Stiles offered, and Tony smirked.

“Square deal.”

“CannIsleepnow?” Stiles asked, and that’s when he caught the flash of red out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head even as it approached, and there was something familiar about the colour, but he couldn’t quite make out what as his eyes slipped closed. He was unconscious before Tony could even consider answering.


	26. Blood

Stiles woke to the beep of a machine, and he recognized the elevated sound of his own heartbeat.

“At least I’m not dead.” he muttered, and that earned him a huff of laughter that had his eyes cracking open. He saw Natasha first, and the red of her hair clicked with his memory. “You came after me.” and she leaned forward, pushing the hair from his brow.

“Of course.” The touch was so comforting that Stiles had to swallow back tears. That’s when he saw the bandage on her forehead.

“You got hurt.” he said then, and she shrugged.

“Hardly.”

“I’m sorry I got caught. Sorry you got hurt.” she moved forward then, sitting on the edge of his bed instead of the chair, taking his hand in hers.

“If you’re hurt, it hurts me. Getting hurt means nothing if I’m not able to protect you.” and Stiles could only stare. “You’re my blood.” she told him firmly, and her eyes also shone brightly. “Mine. And I protect what’s mine, okay?” he didn’t realize he’d shed a tear until she brushed it from his cheek, leaning forward to press a kiss to his brow. “There’s someone else here to see you.” and she moved back to her chair but kept his hand in hers. He frowned in confusion but then she nodded to his other side and he turned to see Bucky sitting in the chair opposite Natasha.

“Oh, hey uncle B. We gotta stop meeting like this.” and that earned him a laugh and his hair ruffled.

“Your Dad’s gonna kill us you know, if you get hurt again under our watch.”

“Technically I was under nobody’s watch because I ran away. He can attest to the fact that I do that a lot.” Stiles countered, and Bucky shook his head, the worry bleeding through.

“Maybe you can do it less for us. I may look young, but I promise, you’ll give me a heart attack at this rate.”

“Can’t have that.” Stiles teased.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.”

“Am I injured?” he asked then, looking between the two of them, and he didn’t miss the glance they exchanged. “Because I don’t feel injured.”

“Do you remember what happened right before Tony found you?” Natasha asked then, and Stiles frowned, thinking back.

“There was - there was a guy in a lab coat. He injected me with something.” the colour drained from his face. “Am I poisoned? Am I going to die?”

“No, you’re not dying.”

“Then what? What’s going on?”

“Now don’t freak out,” Stiles’ head whipped around to face the door at the foot of the bed as Tony made his way inside, no longer wearing the Iron Man suit. “But it looks like they were trying to unlock your potential. See if you’d inherited any of the super soldier serum.” The possibility left him momentarily speechless as his mind ran a mile a minute.

“Did I?”

“Far as we can tell? No. But something’s changed.”

“What? What changed?”

“This is why I said don’t freak out.” Tony chastised, but Stiles just glared. “Those energy readings? They’ve spiked. They used to be fairly low grade, spikes in energy matching your mood, but now they’re practically flaring.”

“What does that mean?” Stiles demanded, and watched the lights flicker around him. He paled again, looking wildly between the three adults.

“It means those powers you had? The ones you probably had a bit of a hard time using?” Stiles could only nod, because Tony was right. “Well, the good news is you’re going to have a much easier time accessing them.”

“What’s the bad news?”

“Now you actually have to learn to control your outbursts. Between you and me, that seriously sucks.” Stiles couldn’t help but laugh, and once he started, he had a hard time stopping. When he finally calmed himself down enough to speak, he was wiping tears from his eyes.

“Now I understand why Pepper said you were excited to have a friend your own age.” and that earned a burst of laughter from Bucky.

“You’re a piece of work, you know that? I like it. Let’s keep him.” Tony said to Natasha, but Natasha was glaring now, and though he rolled his eyes, he left with a hasty goodbye. The moment he was gone, Natasha turned back to Stiles.

“This doesn’t have to be something scary. We know lots of people who could help you control magic.” Stiles shook his head.

“You don’t have to worry about that, aunt Nat. I’ve got that part covered. Scotty owes me for those first few months of learning how to be a werewolf. I think he can deal with the first few weeks of my newly expanded powers.” Then his fingers tightened on hers. “I don’t have to leave yet, do I?” and she squeezed right back.

“Not until you’re ready.” Stiles reached out his other hand, gratified when Bucky took it. He offered them both a serene smile.

“Good.”


	27. Bronze

“Okay, okay, I get it, Stiles. You’ve got full control of your Spark.” Scott groaned from the grass, and Stiles grinned down at him. “Why don’t you practice on somebody else?”

“Oh don’t worry, Derek’s on my list for later.” Scott groaned, accepting Stiles’ hand to his feet.

“How come we get the worse treatment?”

“Cause you literally tried to kill me and he slammed me into stuff all the time.” He clapped Scott on the back.

“Cheer up, Scotty, next up I want to see how far I can push you.”

“If I break any bones, deals off.” Scott warned, and Stiles smirked, lifting his hands to shove Scott right in the chest.

“Guess you better try and land on your feet.”

It was just as satisfying seeing Derek go flying and Stiles laughed until he wheezed.

“You’re an asshole, Stiles, you know that?” Derek grumbled, but it was good natured considering the appraising look in his eyes.

“Got half of it from you.” and Derek shot him a look that had Stiles cackling again. “I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that I tested almost everything else out on Scott earlier.”

“As if I don’t know you haven’t doubled up.” Was the response with a roll of his eyes.

“It’s for science!” Stiles shot back, and behind him, Peter chuckled. He tossed him a grin over his shoulder.

“Remind me again how Peter got out of this? After all, he did try to kill you more than the rest.”

“Yeah but I’d hate to accidentally hurt him and deprive you of his excellent company.” Stiles quipped back, much to Derek’s dismay.

“What else were you hoping to do?”

“I’ve been looking into wards, actually.” and that drew everyone’s attention. “I was wondering if, you know, you maybe wanted something for the house.” and he avoided Derek’s gaze then, staring at his sneakers and where he kicked at a tuft of grass. The hand running through his hair surprised him and he looked up to see Derek watching him fondly.

“We’d be honoured, Stiles.” and Stiles beamed, scrambling for his backpack.

“I drew up a couple of options. After all, I dunno what was here before, and obviously we want something different. I mean, it should all be different since those sounded _dumb_ but it’s better to be safe than sorry and-”

“Stiles, relax. I’m sure whatever you have is great.” and Stiles just stared.

“Don’t you at least want to see?”

“I trust you, Stiles. If you think what you’ve been working is ready for the house, I know how much research would have gone into it.” The gratitude swelled through him in a wave, and he just nodded. That’s when the notebook was plucked out of his hand and he craned his neck to see Peter pouring over his designs. He grinned, knowing now that checking up on his work was just for show, but that didn’t change the fact that he was grateful for a second pair of eyes, especially from Peter who knew a fair amount about runes.

“Don’t you think it’s risky putting these ones here in trees around the perimeter? Easy to find and get rid of?” Peter finally asked, and Stiles shook his head, moving to sit beside the oldest wolf, flipping to the next page so he could point at it.

“That’s what this is for.” Peter gave a hum, but Stiles could hear his surprise, and it was gratifying.

“This is very thorough work, Stiles.” he concluded, handing back the notebook, and Stiles couldn’t stop himself from simply beaming.

“Great. Well, uh. That was easier than I thought.” he clutched the book to his chest, grinning wryly. “But I can start whenever you guys want. Not pressure of course, and I don’t want to intrude. So whenever really.”

“You know what’s intrusive?” Peter asked, and Stiles turned narrow eyes on him. “Needing to constantly remind someone that they’re welcome.” he waved a dismissive hand at Stiles. “You really should know by now, if we didn’t want you here, you wouldn’t be.” and Stiles only allowed himself a moment to stare before he turned, cheeks flushed but pleased.

“You brought us together, Stiles.” Derek said then, coming forward. “Even if you don’t end up staying here, what with your family in New York now, you’ll always be welcome, and you’ll always be pack. This will always be your home too.” Stiles grabbed Derek in a hug, grateful when it was returned without hesitation.

“Thank you.”

>>>

“Dad, I’m home!” he called out, dropping his bag inside the living room doorway and frowning when he didn’t see his Dad. The car was out front which meant his Dad was supposed to be home. “Dad?” he moved towards the kitchen, wondering if maybe he just hadn’t heard him somehow, but the kitchen was empty too. He turned, frown forming, and that’s when he saw the backdoor was slightly open, not quite latched. Cautious now, Stiles slid forward, keeping as quiet as possible and looking all around for signs of anyone else in the house. If his Dad was hurt, there would be hell to pay, and he knew from his aunt and uncle that silence and surprise were some of your best weapons. He reached the door, hand closing over the handle to close it, when he felt the shift. He twisted immediately, throwing a hand up, power flaring with the motion, and watched as the metal fist stopped inches from his face.

He followed the hand up the arm to its owner and found Bucky grinning back at him.

“You’re getting better.” he praised, but Stiles was too busy being glad to see him. He launched forward to hug him.

“I didn’t know you were supposed to be here so early! I thought we had to wait another week!”

“Change of plans, we finished everything up early. Plus, your Dad promised us a barbecue.” Stiles was immediately rushing for the back door, in full protective mode.

“There not be anything more than a lean burger with your name on it!” he shouted the moment he was out the door, and John huffed out a breath from his post at the barbecue, Natasha sipping on a drink at his side.

“Don’t worry, Stiles. It looks like you’ve got them all conspiring against me. Not a single full fat thing here.” and Stiles beamed at his two favourite assassins. Bucky swung an arm around his shoulders, guiding him outside, and he met Natasha’s gaze over his head, offering a nod. He’d watched Stiles’ eyes go liquid bronze, and even now they didn’t lose some of that colour. It looked like he’d gained full control over his Spark.


	28. Cookie

“I brought cookies!” Stiles announced as he walked into the Tower, still carrying the tray he’d carried with him all the way from Beacon Hills.

“Oooh. Gimme!” Tony demanded, the first one out of his seat, snatching the tin from Stiles’ hands. It was snatched from him before he could even open it by Bucky who held the tin above Tony’s head. Stiles only just resisted snickering as Tony pouted.

“Steve!” Tony shouted. “Bucky’s hogging all the cookies!”

“Where did we get cookies from?” Steve asked, coming out of the kitchen, and Stiles beamed.

“Me. Made them myself.” he ran a hand through his hair. “They’re uh - apology cookies. For running away.” And he expected everyone to make a big deal out of it but they just kept on bickering about the cookies. Steve actually moved right up behind Bucky and plucked it right out of his hand, spinning to see what was in them for himself even as Bucky tried to grab them back. Natasha came out of nowhere, flying through the air like a bullet, and next thing Stiles knew she was right back beside him, offering the tin. He was fairly certain he had the silliest grin on his face, but he didn’t mind. He accepted the tin, opening it up to offer her one. Everyone crowded up behind her but nobody dared take one before her.

“There are a lot of different kinds in here.” she noted, and he knew she was remarking on the amount of time it would have taken him to produce.

“Yeah, I didn’t know what anyone liked. I went with chocolate chip, oatmeal, and then a sugar cookie. Just in case.” Natasha plucked a chocolate chip cookie from the tin, stepping forward to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you.” and everyone dutifully followed suit, picking their cookie and offering thanks. Tony even copied her so far as to press a kiss to Stiles’ cheek and Stiles went beat red but didn’t protest.

“You should run away more often.” Tony said after moaning lewdly around his cookie and gaining grimaces from every one else in the room. Bucky even threw a pillow, hitting him square in the face.

“Or I could just bake here. Probably taste better fresh, right?” That had Tony instantly on his feet.

“Jarvis! Stock the kitchen! Make it a bakers wet dream.”

“As you wish, sir.” Tony turned and winked at Stiles.

“Now you’re never leaving.” and Stiles would have never predicted that he’d feel so at home here. That’s when he realized Clint wasn’t there.

“Where’s Clint?”

On cue, the doors to the elevator slid open, but rather than see Clint, he saw a golden ball of fur rushing forward. The ball of fur hit him, bowling him over, but he just laughed, finding a very happy, one eyed golden lab on top of him, licking his face in greeting.

“Well hello there, and who are you?”

“Lucky! Get off the kid.” Clint called, but Lucky just flopped down on top of him, knocking the wind out of him. Stiles laughed again, albeit this time it was wheezing. He wrapped his arms around the dog, burying his face in his fur. Yup, his life was pretty great.


	29. Hair

Stiles couldn’t shake his nerves. Not because he hadn’t had everyone over a thousand times before, but this time he’d dug out the old albums of his Mom - even the ones from when she was sick. When they thought she might get better. He’d laid them out on the coffee table, knowing it was only right that they let Bucky and Natasha look through them, see the life their daughter had had, but it didn’t make it any easier for him.

“You don’t have to do this you know.” Isaac murmured, wrapping his arms around him from behind. Stiles leaned back into him, but shook his head, still staring at the albums.

“Yes I do. They deserve to know. To see it.”

“When’s your Dad supposed to be home?”

“He’s not. He’s got the evening shift. I figured I’d spare him of this one, since he’s been so good about everything else.” Isaac said nothing, but he didn’t have to, Stiles knew what he was thinking. They heard the key in the lock moments before Natasha’s voice called out, announcing their arrival.

“Stiles?”

“We’re in the living room.” he called back pulling away from Isaac, pacing the length of the wall. Isaac just leaned against the doorway, keeping his eyes on Stiles, only looking away briefly to offer a smile of greeting to the guests.

“We brought Chinese. If you’re hungry.” Bucky said, and Isaac accepted the bag of food.

“Thank you,” he said, since Stiles was once again staring at the albums on the coffee table, nerves fully apparent in his face. “I think maybe we can eat after. Right, Stiles?” Stiles’ head shot up and he offered a nod, though they could all tell he hadn’t really heard the question. Isaac disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Stiles with Bucky and Natasha, and it was Natasha who spoke first.

“What are these?” she asked, sitting on the couch, since it was clearly where Stiles wanted them considering how he’d laid everything out.

“Photo albums.” he blurted, and then winced. “Of mom.” he continued. “This ones from before, when she was younger.” and he pointed to the first, well-loved album. “This one is from when she was in school, met Dad, had me.” and it was just as well loved as the first, obviously looked through often and with care. “This one is my childhood, and,” he swallowed past the lump in his throat. “And when she was sick.” and it was clear that this had been about when everything had gone away, because while it showed signs of use, it looked practically new compared to the other two albums.

“Did you want to look at them with us?” Natasha asked then, and Stiles shook his head, actually backing away.

“I looked through them earlier. I don’t think I can again today.” he admitted. “But I want you guys to see her.” they both nodded, expressions solemn, and when Bucky reached for the first album, the one from her childhood, Stiles moved back to settle into his Dad’s armchair. Isaac came back into the room then as well, lifting Stiles easily despite his grumbles and settling him into his lap, the blue of his eyes ringed with supernatural gold in response to Stiles’ distress. Stiles just leaned into him, watching as the two ex-assassins flipped through the pages of his mother’s life. They didn’t say a word, giving each page a thorough look before moving onto the next.

It was when they’d reached the last book, about halfway through, when Natasha spoke for the first time.

“Your hair. You shaved it all off.” and she looked up at him, eyes darting over his features. He had a full head of hair now - a wild amount of straight hair that they knew now he must have gotten from his father’s side because even Claudia had soft curls. He nodded, but she could see how his expression was guarded, afraid of the question she was going to ask. It was that wariness that forced her to ask. “Why?”

“When mom got sicker,” he began, before shaking his head with a a grimace, mouth pressing into a thin line. Bucky looked at Natasha, putting a hand over hers. They’d read into the illness their daughter had died of; read that the symptoms could lead to violent outbursts. It hurt both of them to think that this illness could have come from her body’s inability to deal with whatever mutated genes Natasha or Bucky had passed on. Potentially both.

“You know, Clint’s been bugging me that I look too much like a serial killer.” Bucky put in then, and Stiles stared at the conversation change. “I’m pretty sure my hair does the same messy thing you’ve got going on when it’s short.” Stiles grinned, understanding just what Bucky was doing, and glad for it.

“I don’t know, uncle B. This look is pure Stilinski charm. I don’t think you could pull it off.” but with that, they’d settled things between them, allowing the two of them to finish going through the photos. When they were finished, they set the final book back on the table, and Bucky was immediately on his feet.

“Who wants dinner?” and Isaac stood, setting Stiles back down in the chair.

“I’ll help.” and he left Stiles alone with Natasha. Stiles stood, moving over to the couch to sit next to Natasha, and she reached up to run a gentle hand through his hair.

“Thank you, for sharing her with us.” Stiles just leaned into her touch.

“Anytime.”


	30. Howl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we've made it to the end!

“I told you this was a good idea.” Lydia told him smugly from where she was lounging on the beach, wide brimmed hat tilted to cover her eyes, sipping on a fruity looking drink with a little umbrella in it. Stiles rolled his eyes, lounging back on a chair of his own under the big umbrella they’d set up, reapplying sun screen. He knew better than to go without, what with his complexion. He finished covering his face and squinted around the beach. Allison was on Lydia’s other side, carefully applying nail polish, and on his other side was Peter, lounging in the sun with a book in hand. Further down the beach, Scott and Boyd were building a massive sand castle while Erica directed them, and in the water Isaac, Derek, and Cora were swimming around.

“It wasn’t a bad idea.” he finally allowed, standing up. It certainly was a benefit that they had the beach all to themselves, especially since he knew there had been more than a few shows of wolfy powers.

“If you’re going up to the house, will you bring me another drink?” Lydia requested, and Stiles shrugged, accepting her empty glass. He hadn’t really been planning on going up to the house, but he figured it would probably be a good idea to bring some water bottles down, maybe some snacks. He hit the stairs, taking them two at a time on the way back up.

“Jarvis, my man, care to tell me just what Lydia’s been drinking?”

“I’ve pulled the recipe up for you.” was the instant reply, and Stiles grinned.

“Amazing. Will you thank Tony again for me? I know he said it was no problem, but this really is the best ever.”

“Your thanks have been noted.” Stiles went about preparing Lydia’s drink before grabbing one of the beach bags by the door, filling it with chips and water bottles, carrying that in one hand and her drink in the other.

“Oh yeah, any word on when everyone else might be joining us?”

“Your father sends his regrets but he’s been pulled to another town for a string of robberies.” and Stiles sighed but was glad that at least for once it was regular crime instead of supernatural related. “Ms. Romanov and Sergeant Barnes are set to arrive by dinner and have already arranged for food to be delivered. I believe Captain Rogers intends on accompanying them as well. Mr. Barton will not be joining you as he was sent on an urgent mission this morning.” That had Stiles freezing.

“He okay?”

“His vitals are well within the acceptable parameter.”

“Okay.” then he headed for the door. He paused in the doorway. “What about Tony?”

“I believe he’s just arriving on the beach.” and Stiles spun around in time to see the Iron Man suit land, hero style, right in the sand. Grinning, Stiles hurried back down the steps. What a show off. He reached the beach in time to see Tony step out of the suit in full beach wear, and couldn’t help but laugh.

“I bet it’s a bitch to clean all the sand out of the joints.”

“Nah, Jarvis will take care of it.” then he saw the drink in Stiles’ hand.

“Bit fruity for my taste, but okay.” he said agreeably, but Stiles swung the drink out of reach.

“This is for Lydia.” he chastised, and even as he said it, she was at his side, plucking the drink from his fingers.

“Yes, thank you Stiles.” She took a delicate sip and then offered Tony a smile. “Thank you for-”

“If anyone else thanks me, I’m going to kick you all out.” he snapped, and Stiles snickered.

“He doesn’t do well with gratitude.” and Lydia hummed.

“Are you sure you’re not related to him?” Stiles sputtered and Tony actually gave a laugh.

“Pretty sure if that in any way turned out to be the case, both Natasha and Bucky would kill me.”

“Aw come on, I’m not so bad.” then Stiles was dropping the bag and heading towards the water. He felt like a swim.

“Feel free to steal my chair.” he called back, but he didn’t bother waiting for the response. Instead, he ran straight into the water, throwing himself bodily at Isaac, sending them both under water. They both came up laughing, and Isaac pulled him right in, kissing him senseless. He tasted like salt and sunscreen and Stiles loved every second of it.

When Natasha and Bucky arrived it was indeed with Steve in tow and they came with what seemed like truck loads of food.

“Did you guys just order from everywhere in the state?” Stiles asked, staring in awe at all the food.

“It’s a vacation. Why limit ourselves?” was Bucky’s response, and Stiles rolled his eyes but he was quick to snag the box of spicy chicken from the area of the counter filled with Chinese food. He wasn’t going to argue with that. Chicken in hand, he moved to settle in next to where Isaac sat, shoving Scott with his foot where the teen sat devouring a pizza.

“Take a breath between bites.” Stiles criticized, but Scott just stuck out his tongue. Stiles shared a commiserating look with Lydia who sat with a bowl of green curry in her lap.

“So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?” Bucky asked, and Stiles shrugged.

“Hadn’t decided yet.” he admitted. “We were thinking we might go into town.”

“Or you could try out the jet skis I’ve got arriving tomorrow.” Tony noted, and all eyes turned to him. “What? I can be a cool uncle too.” and his tone was almost petulant.

“Sure you can be. Man, that sounds awesome.”

“I hope you also have safety gear coming in, Tony.” Natasha noted, voice sugary sweet, and Tony grimaced.

“I value my life, thank you very much.” and that earned a huff from Steve.

“When did that start?”

“When I saw what happened to people who even looked at the kid wrong.” Tony shot back, and Stiles flushed bright red.

“So, to be clear, you didn’t order the gear because you were too worried about general safety, but because you were afraid Nat and Buck would come after you.” Steve stated, and Tony nodded vehemently.

“Absolutely, wouldn’t you?” Steve shook his head, but they were all smiling.

The howl cut through the air and had everyone startling. It had Stiles doing a quick head count, but everyone was present and accounted for. That meant whoever or whatever had howled, wasn’t one of them.

“I didn’t know there were wolves in this part of California.” Steve noted, but when he looked up, he was met with luminescent eyes in gold, blue, and red. Surprised, he turned to look at Stiles, and found eyes bright as bronze staring right back, wicked grin spread across his features.

“There aren’t.”


End file.
